A Son's Confession
by Analyn 100
Summary: AU ending to the Revelation episode - why Reid finally confessed after more than 2 days of torture.
1. Chapter 1

AU ending to the last few minutes of the Revelation episode. And, nope, don't own the Criminal Minds series, darn it.

The smell of rotting, burning fish permeated the air, making it hard to breathe. Spencer Reid, however, hardly noticed as a scream was ripped from his throat. Hot pokers on bare skin had that effect on even the most resilient FBI Agents. _Don't be ridiculous! Morgan wouldn't be screaming like a girl!_

"Tobias! Help!" He begged. He turned his teary eyes towards his captor, but there was a look of steel in them, not one hint of the soft compassion that he had come to associate with the brutal unsub the team had been hunting.

"He can't help you! He's weak!" Charles' gruff voice echoed in his ears.

Reid braced himself for another round of searing pain but instead, Charles turned around abruptly and a clicking sound was heard as the webcam light came back on.

"This ends now! " Charles reached down to grab a knife from the floor. "Confess!" he snarled as he grabbed Reid's injured foot and held the knife to the bruised skin.

"I'm not a sinner!" Reid sobbed for the….what was it now - 20th time in two days. No, wait it was 23. The drugs must have muddled his brain more than he realized. He couldn't even count any more. He tried to pull his foot away , knowing what was coming. He tried to brace himself for the pain, but he couldn't. He was too exhausted to scream anymore. His brilliant mind muddled by the CPR and drugs, he had no fight left in him. He turned his gaze towards the ceiling, refusing to look at the bloody mess that was now his foot. He refused to look at the camera where he knew his team was watching in humiliation. Were they even still watching? Had they all just turned off the computer, walked away while they talked about the unsub, while giving the latest victim up for dead. Was that all he was anymore? Just another victim, another statistic? His life had been all about logic and statistics, but was that all it would be in the end? Gideon had told him that he was strong, that Hankel couldn't break him. He was wrong.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. He could almost see the disappointment in the man's eyes from across the webcam. He kept his head down, hoping to retain some of his dignity, if there was any left to save at all. But since this was being recorded, there was one other person who needed to hear his apology even more.

"What are you sorry for, boy?"

Reid took a long, drawn out breath, his voice shaking. "I sent her away."

"Who?" The voice, that of Charles was so soft and curious that for a moment he could hear a resemblance between father and son.

"My mom. I couldn't help her."

"Is that a confession?"

"Yes. I confess."

"You know your Bible, boy. Exodus 21:17."

"And he who curseth his mother or his father shall surely be put to death." Reid kept his vacant stare at the ground. This was it. He had profiled this man, mission based killers never stopped. He was going to die anyway, at least this way he could give his mom a little solace at his funeral. The momentary calm and peace he'd felt when the camera first came on and Charles' had left was gone. He had been certain that Garcia would be able to track the computer, that the team would find him before Charles could return, but it had been nearly three days. Three days that felt like an eternity. If Garcia couldn't track him, then no one could. Would they even miss him? Would they be glad for the quiet that came without his useless rambling.

The chair to which he was chained was roughly turned towards the camera. His head was pulled back by his hair, forcing him to face the camera as the knife was drawn under his chin. Reid squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end. Any second now. Was this what it was like for everyone? The terror coupled with the relief that the pain would finally be over?

"Too easy." the voice whispered next to his ear. "I ought to give you time to think about what you've done." The knife disappeared. There was less than a second of relief and confusion before he felt something hit him _hard_ in the back between the shoulders.

17 miles away, a scream pierced the air as the Goddess of the Cyber World covered her mouth, gaping at the sight of her Junior G-man. He had a blank stare, fixated on the screen, his breath shallow…and a knife protruding from his back.

"Say good-bye to the heathens!" The voice of the hooded man commanded.

"Good-bye. I'm sorry," Reid whispered.

"Reid." Garcia whimpered mascara dripping down her face as she touching her hand to the screen as though she'd be able to take him in her arms. She watched as his feet were uncuffed and he was dragged out of the shed, leaving nothing behind but blood and chains and an open Bible on the chair that had been his prison.


	2. Chapter 2

_Have faith little one_  
 _'Til your hopes and your wishes come true._  
 _You must try to be brave little one._  
 _Someone's waiting to love you -_ Someone's Waiting For You - Disney's Rescuers 1977

Reid stumbled out of the shed, Charles' strong grip being the only thing keeping him on his bloody, broken feet soon to be numb from the cold.

"Pick it up!" the gruff voice demanded.

"What?" Reid didn't like the way his brain couldn't process anything as he was shoved towards the ground. Only then did his eyes lock on to the shovel.

"Dig!" Reid looked up to see the gun pointed at his head. "And don't try anything stupid!"

Reid looked from the shovel to his captor, and back again. Gideon had once told him about how he had beaten the Footpath killer with the profile. Then again with Philip Dowd, he had drilled into his protégé the importance of understanding the mind and the profile. Those were the keys to survival…but this, this made no sense. They had profiled Hankel as a mission based killer, someone who didn't take pleasure in torture. He merely slit people's throats and was done in seconds…so why after a confession wasn't he getting an easy way out? Oh, that's right, they had profiled Rafael, not Charles'….Charles loved torture. He almost hoped the team didn't find them. He didn't want to find out what mistakes the team would make in the minutes it would take them to recognize the Dissociative Identity Disorder staring them in the face. Maybe it would be better to make a grab for the gun. Death by unsub, then at least the team wouldn't be put in jeopardy trying to rescue him….that is if the dimwits ever figured out his clue. If anyone could it would be Hotch. But every minute that passed made that less and less likely.

He carefully grabbed hold of the shovel, wincing as the pain in his back spiked. Whatever Hankel had hit him with sure hurt like all Hell. A scream died on his lips, he didn't have the strength to scream…breathing alone was almost impossible. Reid grabbed the handle and used it as a crutch to help himself up. Taking a deep breath, he put his least injured right foot against the shovel for leverage, but the tool barely moved.

"I said, dig, you weakling."

"I can't!" Reid panted, trying to catch his breath, a scream dying on his lips. Why was breathing suddenly a Herculean task? He felt like screaming, but he couldn't. It was just too painful. He leaned over the handle of the shovel as his knees gave way and the shovel fell beside him. Let Charles shoot him, it would be a blessing compared to this agony.

"Pathetic, just like my son!"

"Tobias help." He begged, curled up in the dirt. If Tobias was in there at all, he'd at least have the decency to put him out of his misery, salvation didn't even occur to him anymore. Tobias wasn't strong enough to defeat his father…but he might just give him another pain killer so he could die in peace. The still rational part of his brain hated himself for begging for the drug. The other half, consumed with pain just didn't give a damn any more.

"You're not getting off that easy!" Charles snarled as he began digging just a few feet way away from Reid's tear-streaked face, ignoring his pleas for help.

Reid watched as the man dug a grave – his grave – wishing that he could switch off his brain and go to sleep. Maybe he'd get some small satisfaction knowing that he was depriving Hankel of the joy of watching him die. Getting one over an unsub always felt good. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how his death would affect his mom. Would she mourn his loss or be glad that she no longer had to pretend to love the man who had locked her away? Somehow he doubted someone suffering delusions could be that good at acting. He knew she loved him, knew he was being stupid for thinking otherwise. Keep breathing. One more breath, come on. He could do this. No thinking, no moving, no digging. Each breath felt like his lungs were on fire, but all he had to do was just one more. Always just one more.

Derek Morgan climbed out of the SUV, slamming the door behind him as he pulled out his gun and flash light. That SOB of an unsub had better not hurt the boy genius or there was going to be some serious payback. Scratch that, payback was a bitch and it was coming.

A quick survey of the road showed that his SUV was the first one to arrive at Marshall Parrish. "Where the Hell is everyone?"

"Hey, Morgan, calm down." Emily, ever the voice of reason. That much reason in the field should not be present in a desk job rookie. Whatever gave her that calm, he was glad for it, and wasn't about to question it, at least not right now.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he first heard, then saw a multitude of sirens, racing toward him. Relief was followed by confusion when an ambulance was the first to pull up. The driver ran to him, while his partner opened the ambulance bay doors to get the gurney.

"What's going on here?" he asked as he was joined by the rest of the team.

"We got a 911 call that there had been a stabbing."

"911 call? But there's no cell …."

"She said the patient's name was Spencer -"

"She?"

"Caller's name was Penelope G-"

"Do we have a visual on him?" Morgan all but demanded of the police chief before he could even shut the cruiser door, leaving the EMT wondering where his patient was.

"No. But your tech said he was alive last she saw."

That was all the team needed to hear as they began to descend on the cabin. Morgan all but knocked down the door before giving the all clear. He lowered his gun, his eyes glued to the chair and handcuffs as Prentiss complained about the smell of…whatever that sickening stench was. It was a wonder there wasn't vomit everywhere. Oh, right, Reid probably hadn't eaten in….way too long. There probably wasn't enough to vomit. When he got the genius doctor back, he was going to leave him to the mercy of Baby Girl's smothering and cooking.

"James 2:19." Gideon's solemn voice read aloud, picking up the Bible and reading the highlighted passage. "Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble."

"Let's spread out, they have to be on foot!" Hotch, hollered, all but ignoring Gideon. What did they care which passage was left? Morgan didn't even bother to correct Hotch. They already had the area locked down, even if Hankel had acquired a vehicle there was no way he was getting past the checkpoints. On foot was their – Reid's – best chance.

In a matter of seconds, the FBI team joined the police searching the grounds, bathing the graveyard in light. Calls of "Reid" and "Spence" filled the creepy grave yard

 _Come on, Reid. Give us a sign._ It was a bit below the belt to expect a victim to solve the crime, but Reid wasn't an ordinary victim. He was a genius with FBI training. But he was still human. He wasn't some damned super computer that could calculate his way out of a beating, even Reid had his limits and Morgan had a feeling time was almost up. Come on, Pretty Boy, give us a few more minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

* _R-E-S-C-U-E_

 _Rescue Aid Society_  
 _Heads held high_  
 _Touch the sky_  
 _You mean everything to me_

 _In a jam, in a scrape_  
 _And you think 'no escape'_  
 _Do not fear, we'll be here_  
 _Courageous are we_

\- Rescue Aid Society, Disney's Rescuers, 1977

"Fools!" Gideon hissed as he watched everyone, even the team pull out their flashlights and start yelling for Reid. "This is not a lost kid in the woods, this is a killer and his hostage. We need the element of surprise. Put those away. Ears only. Has everyone lost their God-damned minds?"

He breathed a sigh of relief as one by one the lights went off and the voices dropped to the occasional whisper. Now as long as they hadn't already screwed up, the night could still be salvaged. He was not going to give notification to Diana Reid any time soon and he was not going to bring Reid aboard the jet in a coffin. It was not going to happen and that was the end of it.

He walked through the moonlit graveyard, straining his ears for anything out of place when he heard it: the sounds of gardening. He did enough of it around his cabin to know the sounds. It was the sound of digging. He gulped. It was the digging of a grave - Reid's grave.

Don't think it! DON'T think it!

He tapped Hotch on the shoulder and inclined his head, not daring to breathe a word. If Hankel wasn't running then he probably hadn't heard yet. It was the first good sign all night - relatively speaking anyway.

Hotch nodded and motioned to the team to follow.

"Detective, have your men circle around the other side of him and search the grounds for Reid, but stay quiet and hidden. We'll handle Hankel. Go." Gideon truly believed that Reid was just a few feet away, but if not...if by some miracle Tobias had him restrained elsewhere, they were not going to waste time and miss the chance to save him.

The team slowly approached the trees nearest to Hankel, not unlike a hunter and his prey...except it was more like trying to avoid Bambi but shoot his mom right next to him. Okay, maybe that was a bad analogy, especially since they didn't know where Reid was.

"FBI! Freeze!"

"Drop the weapon!"

"Where's Dr. Reid?" the low growl in Gideon's voice should set off alarm bells in the hearts and minds of unsubs everywhere

The smile on Hankel's face was more than a little disconcerting. He was surrounded by law enforcement with half a dozen guns on him, and he was smiling. Hankle slowly lowered the shovel to the ground.

"Hands behind your head!" Morgan barked at him. Always the hot head. If Gideon knew Morgan he would pound the man's head into the ground if given the slightest excuse - that is if he felt he needed one.

The hands came up slowly, but so did….a gun. He must have hidden it in his pocket. "Take one step closer and I'll –"

"You'll what?" Morgan snarled, "Kill an innocent kid? He's not - " Morgan shut his mouth at the warning look Gideon was giving him. Why couldn't he just put the bastard's head on a stick.

"I would never hurt the innocent." That self-righteous tone was going to get him in trouble. It was making Morgan's blood boil - he wasn't alone in that sentiment.

"I'm Agent Gideon. What's your name, sir?" Gideon asked patiently, ignoring the eye rolls of his fellow agents. They didn't understand, sometimes aggression wasn't the key to success, not everyone could be intimidated into confession.

"Charles Hankel. What's it to you?"

"Well, you see, Charles, we need your help. Perhaps if you put the gun down..."

"Why would I want to help heathen sinners like yourself?"

"Because there's been a misunderstanding. We're looking for your son,Tobias. He had a run in with one of our agents back at your house. Now he's been missing, Tobias was the last one to see him. If you could answer a few questions and tell us where he is, it would greatly help us. It'll only take a little of your time."

"Are you saying my Tobias had anything to do with a kidnapping?"

"No, sir. Just routine questions. The smallest detail that he may have seen could help us find our agent. First of all, when did you last see your son? Is he around, can I talk to him? We are no threat to you, sir. Just put your gun down and let us talk like civilized men."

"Civilized, you say? Is that what you would call a civilized man? Do civilized men sit in their luxurious homes while their employees struggle for a living? Does a civilized woman betray her husband while he is away working for their food and shelter? Do civilized men let the sinners walk free while the innocent are slaughtered? Do civilized men profess to have a profound knowledge of the scriptures and then send their parents away in disgrace? They were not civilized."

Gideon visibly paled at the rant about sinners, ticking off in his mind the various sins of Hankel's victims, but that last one? He didn't know how Reid's mother had ended up in the sanitarium, but if he'd had her committed, if that last sin was Reid's - if he confessed - then he was good as dead. "I'm not talking about them, I don't even know who you are taking about," Gideon lied. "I'm talking about you and me. Two civilized men with grown sons who don't show us the respect we deserve. Your son, he does drugs, harms himself, harms the temple that is his body. You try to teach him, but he ignores you completely. I know what that's like. My Stephen is the same way." Sorry, Stephen. He was stretching the truth more than just a little.

"Funny, I'm not the coward. You can't face me like a man. You have to have your goon squad and a dozen guns in order to feel safe. I've got the Lord's Will on my side, that's better than any bullet proof vest you've got."

"All I am saying is 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone'."

"You know your Bible. John 8:7." There was a noticeable change in the voice. It was not Charles's harsh tone, but one of apathy and honest sincerity.

"What is this a Sunday school quiz? Gideon, come on! Enough with the damn Bible already!" Two sets of eyes trained on him: one furious and one condescending. Okay so maybe insulting the Holy Book in front of a religious fanatic with a gun was a bad idea -especially when said fanatic was holding your injured buddy hostage.

"What I'm trying to say is that 'all have sinned and fallen short of God's glory'. My agent has sinned, I have sinned. We all have sinned but we are saved 'by Grace, not by works lest any man should boast.' It is God's grace that saves us and God alone who can give judgement for our sins."

"You calling me a sinner, heathen!?"

"I did not say that, Charles!"

"Charles? Do I look like Charles, you simpleton!?"

"Sorry, its dark, my eyes aren't what they used to be, Mr - I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

"Rafael."

"Rafael." Yes, let the cooler heads prevail. He had been hoping for Tobias, but this could still work. At least Rafael wasn't as rash as Charles. "What are you doing digging out here at night anyway?"

Rafael looked slightly confused, his eyes shifting slight to his right, a sick and satisfied smile appearing out of nowhere. "Got a funeral tomorrow morning, just out here to dig before the sun comes up."

"I'm sorry to hear that, who's funeral?"

Angels couldn't lie. Okay, so he wasn't an angel, not by any stretch of the imagination, but if the delusion held...Gideon doubted the Rafael personality would tell a lie. For the first time in his life, Gideon was on the verge of a confession he didn't want. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Did you kill Spencer Reid?"

"He was a sinner."

"You haven't proven that!" it was a new voice, high-pitched and terrified. The unsub's body language suddenly changed. His head was bowed and he was shaking

"He dishonored his mother! He sent her away." The voice of Charles was back, harsh and unforgiving.

"No," the terrified voice argued. "He said he sent her way because he couldn't help her. He loves her, he was getting help for her, that's not dishonor. Moses' mother sent him away to protect.. "

"Tobias, tell me where he _is_!"

But just as soon as Tobias appeared, he was gone.

"You think you know the Bible better than me boy?"

"WHERE IS HE?"

"Morgan!" it was the Hotchner warning tone, the only one Morgan ever listened to.

"Hotch, Reid's running out of time, man." If he's still alive. The use of the past tense was damning, but Morgan refused to believe it until he saw Reid's body with his own eyes.

"Hotch?" The sudden interest in that name, made the hairs on everyone's head stand up. "As in Aaron Hotchner?"

"Yes," Hotch answered before Gideon could open his mouth to lie for him. They all remembered Reid name Hotch under threat of death.

"For God's will!"

The shot rang out into the still night.

Followed by three more.

The air seemed to freeze as Hankel dropped the gun and Hotch stumbled backwards, clutching his stomach as he fell to the ground before anyone could catch him.

"I'm fine!" Aaron Hotchner insisted as he slowly sat up, disentangling himself from Morgan's support.

"You got shot, Hotch!"

"In the vest, I'm fine. Reid! Need to find..."

"Hotch, I hate to say it -"

"Hankel shot me because we are still 7. If we were a team of 6, he wouldn't need to kill me."

Morgan didn't need telling twice. He ran to Hankel, to find that Gideon was already there, throwing the gun out of the unsub's reach.

"He's alive."

"Tobias, if you're in there, tell me where Reid is!"

The blue eyes opened, regarding the men with a sense of panic. "Thomas...He's with Thomas -" His eyes rolled back and his body went limp. Tobias Hankel had won, at the cost of his life.

Gideon got to his feet, surveying the huge graveyard with a mixed sense of hope and dread. "Search the tombstones for the name Thomas. The closer to me the better."

"I've got a Thomas Smith!" one of the officers voices called out.

"Thomas Bradstone!"

"Okay, start digging! Hands only, if he's still got that knife in his back, you don't want to hit it!"

The digging commenced in a hurried frenzy, two groups. One at each grave.

J.J. got to her feet and began scanning the graveyard with her flashlight. Something wasn't right. Neither grave looked disrupted. There were no piles of dirt nearby. She started walking when her foot hit something that wasn't dirt or a rock. In fact it felt like...

She stopped in tracks and backed up and shone her flashlight to the ground.

Morgan watch Hotch dig with a frenzy he'd never seen in his unit chief before. This was hopeless, no one could survive without breathing for this long. Even if Reid has just been buried when they arrived, they'd been here for more than five...his depressing thoughts were cut off by the sound of a shrill scream. "J.J!"

The team abandoned their digging and ran to J.J. just a few yards away...next to the tomb of Thomas Parker.

She was staring at the ground. "J.J. what?"

"He's, He's..."

Morgan shone his flashlight at the ground. Barely visible beneath the dirt was a shallow grave...and a body covered mostly by the dirt except for barely visible light brown hair. His head was resting on his left arm...and a knife was protruding from his back. It was Reid.


	4. Chapter 4

_Amazing grace_  
 _How sweet the sound_  
 _That saved a wretch like me_  
 _I once was lost, but now I'm found_  
 _Was blind, but now I see_

 _'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear_  
 _And grace my fears relieved_  
 _How precious did that grace appear_  
 _The hour I first believed_

 _My chains are gone_  
 _I've been set free_  
 _My God, my Savior has ransomed me_  
 _And like a flood His mercy reigns_  
 _Unending love, amazing grace_ \- Amazing Grace, Chris Tomlin

It took both Gideon and Morgan agonizing moments to pull the half buried body out of the shallow grave. A low moaning sound negated the need for a pulse check, but Morgan checked anyway, while Gideon handed Reid off to Hotch, who cradled Reid's head in his lap. On any other day Morgan would have snapped a cell phone photo of the strict unit cheif sitting in the dirt, babying one of the team. But not now, not when that team member was on death's door.

Reid moaned as strong arms grabbed and dragged him from the dirt. Why couldn't Charles just leave well enough alone? But this, this wasn't Charles. Gentle hands combed back his hair and held him in a secure embrace, carefully avoiding the most painful part of his back.

"Just breathe, that's it. Breathe. You're safe now." The voice was almost familiar.

Just breathe? As if it was that easy- something as easy as breathing had no right being so damned painful. "Tobias?" Something wasn't right. The voice was gruff but gentle…comforting in a way that Tobias, even at his best, could never manage. If it wasn't Tobias…then who?

"He can't hurt you anymore. You're safe."

Safe? What did that even mean? He was safe? Tobias wouldn't hurt him. Why would they think Tobias would hurt him?

"We're here. The team's here. The ambulance is coming. Just hang on. Don't move."

Don't move? How could he possibly move…wait the team? Reid opened his eyes slowly, only to see a white dress shirt, marred with dirt. Hotch?

"J.J...?" Reid gasped for air, trying to push himself out of Hotch's lap. He had to make sure she was alright. Frantic voices erupted all around. What was that Hotch had said? Oh, right. No moving

"J.J. is fine." The relief that flooded over him was so palpable it was like a tidal wave. He felt himself relax for the first time in days. "Don't talk, Spencer, just breathe."

Spencer? Must be bad for Hotch to be using his first name. The man had the same gentle, scolding tone that his mother had. Odd to hear it from his strict team leader. Reid took a few painful deep breaths. There was only one reason for the team to be so calm and that was Hankel's death, which meant that relief was within reach. "Pockets...his..."

"Kid, tell us tomorrow." It was Morgan. Strong, steady hands rested on his shoulders, effectively anchoring him into Hotch's embrace.

Reid shook his head, causing Morgan pin his head to Hotch's arm. "Reid, what did Hotch say about not moving?" Charles must have hit him hard to make the team this worried about such a slight move. "Medi..Med..."

"Hankel has medicine in his pockets?"

"Yes."

Making sure Hotch had Reid's head stabilized, Morgan raced over to the still warm corpse. He rummaged through his jacket pockets before turning to his jeans. Inside were two vials. Morgan read the labels and his heart sank: Dilaudid. He took a deep breath, he barely restrained from throwing them to the ground. They were after all evidence, evidence that his buddy had been drugged...and from his begging he might even already be addicted. _Don't think like that, Morgan. He's in pain, of course he wants relief. Wanting relief doesn't_ _make an addict._ Here he had been hoping Tobias had been sick with an antibiotic prescription he could give to Reid. He put the vials back in Hankel's pocket and walked back to his colleagues, kneeling down next to them.

"Sorry, kid. I didn't find anything."

Reid may have been in agonizing pain, but even he could hear the pity in Morgan's voice. He was lying. "Weak. Sorry." His breathing was now coming in short pants instead of long agonizing breaths. He had been stupid to think that Morgan would shoot him up. They were all sadistic bastards, the lot of them, making him suffer like this. The rational part of his brain told him that the team had witnessed his temporary death on webcam and didn't want to risk another cardiac arrest. The other part of his brain didn't care, an overdose would be such a nice, painless death. Hadn't he suffered enough?

"No, you're not weak. Weak people don't put up this much of a fight." Morgan sounded both amused and scared at the same time. Morgan was never scared.

"Where are the medics?" Morgan growled. He grabbed Hotch's discarded flashlight as well as his own and began waving them like strobe lights.

* * *

Emily Prentiss walked out of the cabin and into the cold night. She just had to trust that Garcia was sitting vigil by her computers and that she had gotten the message. Being the non-techie that she was, it had taken longer than she had anticipated to get the webcam back on so she could have a one-sided conversation with Morgan's 'Baby Girl'. Apparently it had taken far longer judging by the fact that J.J. had arrived back with the medics who had managed to get Reid onto the gurney without moving the knife. Hotch was talking to the medics while Morgan was, for lack of a better word, restraining the panicking J.J. Jumping back into action, she hurried to the gurney, slipping effortlessly between the paramedics and Hotch to check on Reid. He was shaking with the effort of holding back the tears. A few leaked out anyway. He raised a hand to wipe them away while the other kept a white knuckled grip on the bars of the gurney. He was lying down on his side, an oxygen mask on his face. His breathing had eased but the pain seemed to triple. She took his hand in hers and was surprised by the bone crushing strength he returned. "It's okay to cry. It's okay."

"Hurts," he whimpered. He closed his eyes not wanting to see her pity.

"Reid, look at me. What hurts?" The obvious answer would be the knife but she thought there might be more to it than that.

His face scrunched up even more, a sob escaping despite his best efforts at being stoic.

"Give me a thumbs up for yes and down for no. Is it how they are moving you?"

One thumb up. Once the jolting had gotten bad enough to break the dam, nothing had been able to stop it and good Lord did it HURT! Even crying hurt, but he couldn't stop.

"Okay, okay," she soothed, stroking away the wetness on his cheeks. "Can you stand on your own?" she asked, ignoring the protests of Hotch and the paramedics. She had found out the hard way that sometimes patients could control the pain best themselves because they knew which movements would hurt the most. Reid obviously didn't have the energy to explain, but if he could stand with help then they could walk him to the road. It would take longer but if the knife was jolted by the four wheels and uneven grass and rocks, then it was over - and judging by the knife position, anyone trying to carry him wouldn't be able to get a secure hold without moving it.

Reid nodded. With the oxygen mask securely in place, Emily lowered the guard rail and the gurney so that Reid could sit up and slide off. She wasn't expecting him to latch onto her like a lifeline, but that's what she and Hotch were. Reid took a deep breath of sweet oxygen. It still hurt to breathe, but at least he didn't feel like a fish out of water.

Emily wanted to hug him, put her arms around him and not let go but time was of the essence. So she limited her offered comfort to soft words of encouragement as she and Hotch moved in to support him on either side. She watched in amazement as the tears slowed and Reid took one slow step in front of another, guided by Morgan's and J.J.'s flashlights. It was just like breathing, just one more. The paramedics up ahead kept an eye on their patient, counting his respiration, rolling the gurney through the graveyard and clearing the path of any rocks. She wished they could just bring the ambulance to him, but they couldn't risk the ambulance getting stuck in the mud and there was no road leading through the graveyard.

"You are so brave, Reid. You're doing fantastic. Just keep walking."

Reid didn't know what she was talking about. This was the easy part. No digging, no talking, no painful jolting. All of his focus was on walking, he didn't have energy for anything else, especially since his walking was more like limping. With the overall pain level down, it was easy by comparison to the rest of the evening. He wanted to thank Emily for this wonderful idea, but he didn't have the energy, breathing still hurt and he guessed that his sudden lack of sobs was gratitude enough.

Emily kept a vice grip on Reid, her encouragement continuous as her eyes strayed momentarily to J.J.'s tear-stained face. J.J must have gotten one hell of a lecture from Morgan because she had regained her composure, kept her eyes on the ground and had not once approached Reid to apologize. In fact, it was a testament to Reid's pain and exhaustion that he hadn't even noticed J.J.'s presence, considering how he normally noticed EVERYTHING and with how worried he had been for her over the last two days. But any emotion that would come of their reunion at this point would just be a distraction - one that Reid could ill afford. For now, Hotch's simple answer of "she's fine" was enough to satisfy Reid's usually insatiable curiosity. No, their reunion and questions would have to wait until Reid was enjoying his jello and curling up with a good book at the hospital...and not a moment sooner.


	5. Chapter 5

* _Through many dangers,_

 _toils and snares,_

 _we have already come._

 _'Twas grace that brought us safe thus far,_

 _and grace will lead us home_.* – Amazing Grace

Left foot.

Right foot.

And again. At this point, Reid hung between Hotch and Prentiss, his head bowed, breathing labored. His vice like grip giving way to exhaustion and his limping had become foot dragging. The only comfort he took was in the sound of the sirens just ahead.

"You're almost there, Reid. Reid! REID! Hotch!"

Hotch quickly grabbed Reid's other arm and brought the young man to his knees before he could fall flat on his face. The two men knelt down on the edge of the grass, Reid resting his head on Hotch's shoulder.

"I knew..." Reid panted, trying to raise his head up to look at Hotch, only to decide that took too much energy.

"Tell me tomorrow, Reid," Hotch hushed him, while the senior agent signaled for help. The paramedics took over, half-carrying, half-dragging Reid the rest of the way to the pavement before lowering him onto gurney again.

"Spencer, my name is Matt, this is Ryan. We're going to get you to the hospital, but I need you to answer a few questions on the way."

"BAU team: J.J, Morgan, Prentiss, into the SUV. Let's go."

"Shouldn't one of us go with him?" Emily asked as Hotch motioned every one towards the SUV.

"No. In the car, I'll explain everything."

Not needing to be told twice, Emily followed Hotch and climbed into the back seat with J.J. just as the ambulance sirens went on. "They need to ask him some questions about his other injuries and its more likely that he'll be truthful if there isn't an audience. Don't worry, he's in good hands."

"You don't think he was sexually abused do you? The previous victims..."

"...had no evidence of sexual assault. I know, Morgan. I doubt it," Hotch admitted as he opened the driver side door.

"Um, Hotch, maybe someone who hasn't been shot should drive!"

Hotch paused for a moment, then nodded, handing the keys to Morgan and climbed into shotgun.

With everyone belted and sirens on, they were off.

"The other victims," Hotch continued, as if there had been no interruption "were killed by Rafael. Most of our profile was based on Rafael's behavior, but it seems as if Charles was the one in control tonight. Reid was apologizing for weakness back at the graveyard which tells me he's embarrassed about something."

"So we're letting him suffer alone because of embarrassment?"

"He knows we're here for him." Hotch's voice was confident, reassuring - except that the car was full of profilers and not one of them was buying it.

"No we aren't. He's there, we are here!" J.J. was starting to get hysterical again. "He's scared and he's going to think we are abandoning him. You wouldn't even let me see him."

"The paramedics need to be able to tell the doctors what happened and the only one who knows that is Reid. We don't know how he got the head wound or if there are any broken bones from the first night's beating...or anything else that happened when the cameras were off. If having privacy makes him more willing to talk, then privacy is what he'll get. And the more information he gives in transit the faster the doctors can help him."

J.J. sighed and leaned back in the seat. Hotch was right. She looked out the window to see the ambulance lights in the distance, relieved when she felt the SUV speed up.

"And I'm sorry for keeping you from seeing him, but I had to. You said yourself the last thing he remembers is the two of you splitting up. You shot the dogs, he probably heard the shots and thought you were in danger - "

"You're saying its MY fault. He came back to help me!"

"J.J., no! We don't know that. But if Reid saw the blood on your shirt, he might think the worst. We don't need him panicked over nothing."

"Where is Gideon anyway? Emily asked, before J.J. could get even more worked up. "I didn't see him after he pulled Reid out of -" Her voice caught in her throat.

"He headed back for the ambulance the same time I did. I don't think he realized Hotch assigned me to that. When I showed up, he said he was going to get Garcia back at the house. They're probably already there."

"Garcia must be loosing her mind. She called the paramedics. They knew he'd been stabbed. She must have seen it happen via webcam."

"If Baby Girl hadn't called from the house, we would have been waiting a lot longer."

"Let's not think about that, alright. He's alive, he's in good hands. It's going to be a good night. A little optimism please. Happy thoughts. Happy, happy, happy."

Emily smirked, she just couldn't resist. "You've been watching too much Barney haven't you, Hotch?"

"No!"

"Hotch..."

It's not my fault Haley puts on the Barney sound track for Jack's bedtime!"

When they finally arrived at the hospital, they were greeted by two very familiar voices.

"How could you be so stupid!" Gideon exclaimed, not noticing the rest of the team. "Do you have any idea how worried I was when you weren't back at the house?"

"What was I supposed to do? Sit around on my perfect posterior and do nothing?"

"You broke the law!"

"So what are you going to do about it? Arrest me? He killed at least 6 people and hurt Reid for the past three days and you're mad at me for stealing that run down piece of crap of his? Trust me, karma is still in my favor."

"Two wrongs don't make-"

"Alright, alright!" Hotch stepped in between them. "Enough of that. If the owner is dead, he can't press charges. I don't care. Garcia, where is Reid?"

"They took him down to radiology as soon as they got here a few minutes ago. They wouldn't even let me see him. I just heard the paramedics give his name to the doctor."

"I'll go get the doctor," Gideon volunteered.

He returned moments later with a petite Asian lady in a lab coat.

"Are you all here for Spencer Reid? Any family among you?"

"How is he?" Garcia was fiddling with her bracelets and her mascara was smeared across her face and from the fact that half of it was perfect, it looked as if she had tried to reapply it and then gave it up as hopeless.

"No," Hotch replied. "We are from D.C. on a case, you can speak to all of us."

"Case?"

"Yes. I'm Agent Hotchner, we're with the FBI, as is your patient."

"Very well, my name is Dr. Patricia Cheng, I will be attending to Agent Reid tonight-"

"Dr." It was Gideon, as usual.

"Sorry?"

"Gideon, not now."

"Dr. Reid."

"Isn't he a bit young-?"

"He graduated from high school when he was 12 and somehow has three doctorates, can read faster than a computer and has a perfect memory," Emily finished in a ramble that would have made Reid proud. "Can we get on with it? How is he?"

"Well I will have to take issue with the 'perfect memory' claim. The paramedics say he told them that he was 'hit in the back.' Apparently from how he was trying to move, he doesn't realize that there is a knife in his back. That means that he's still in shock which is masking some of the pain."

"Masking?" Emily's jaw dropped to the ground. If shock was masking the worst of the pain she didn't want to imagine how much pain he would be in when it wore off.

"How can he NOT know its there?"

"He's been taken to radiology so we can see what we are dealing with," Dr. Cheng continued as if she had not been interrupted. "But I need to know everything about what happened and if he has any other medical conditions or prescription medications."

"No," Hotch answered. "I'm his medical contact and he wasn't on any prescriptions to my knowledge prior to his abduction, but he is allergic to Beta Lactums. Didn't the paramedics ask him?'" Hotch could have sworn they asked Reid at least routine questions when they first arrived in order to assess his condition.

"Thank you and no, he was not. When asked his birthday the paramedics said his answer did not match yours. You - or someone at the crime scene - said his birth year was 1981, he claimed it was 1980. Now either, he couldn't finish what he was saying due to breathing difficulties or the head trauma is causing problems with memory recall, either way his answers could not be relied upon. He also denied having taken any drugs prescription or otherwise, whereas the paramedics said a crime scene source found evidence of Dilaudid injections, which is consistent with the five fresh needle marks on his arms."

"Hankel's rehab contact mentioned that he would cut the drugs sometimes, usually with a psychedelic...He gave some to Reid?" Reid was on narcotics, and in shock and still in that much pain?

Morgan nodded. "While you were in the cabin, Reid asked for the medicine in Hankel's pocket. He didn't know what it was called but he knew it was there. I told the paramedics and Detective Farraday about it. It's been taken to the lab for analysis."

"We've already drawn a stat tox screen as well as a CBC and a Chem Panel but without knowing what he's been given or how much, I can't justify giving him any morphine. If he seizes from an overdose, he could puncture a lung or tear an artery. And with that head wound, putting him under anesthesia could cause a cardiac event."

"Don't heart attack victims get surgery all the time?" Garcia asked. "Why can't you -?"

"Because most heart attack victims don't have a head wound, an unknown amount of unknown narcotics in their system and a knife in the back. I would have to examine his head wound further to know the risk level for certain but I can't put him into an MRI with that knife. The machine is basically a gigantic magnet. It would rip the knife out of his back, killing him in seconds." Not to mention the damage that a flying knife could do .

"He also can't handle a second cardiac event."

"Second?"

"The kidnapper sent us video images of Reid's torture -"

"Torture? In addition to the knife wound?"

"Yes, it's been a long three days. In the videos, he was seizing and going into cardiac arrest less than two hours ago. The kidnapper didn't want to loose the leverage of a hostage so he gave Reid CPR..."

"That could be from a concussion or the the result of an overdose. If it's the overdose then more would kill him," Dr. Cheng finished.

"Its probably the overdose," Hotch added. "He had the blood on his head in the first video footage 2 days ago."

"Please tell me you aren't going to take it out without anesthesia," Garcia begged.

"There is one other option, there are risks, but they are much less likely."

Emily could tell just from Dr. Cheng's hesitation that she didn't like her own idea, which was ominous to say the least.

"We could give him an epidural. He would be awake for the procedure but once it takes effect, usually in less than 20 minutes, he would be numb from injection point on down. At that point we could safely remove the knife."

"That sounds wonderful, what's the risk?" Garcia was chewing her manicured nails wondering how numbing her Junior-G man was such a bad idea. "Wait, I thought pregnant women get those in labor?"

"Epidurals are most commonly given during labor because the fetus can't tolerate I.V. pain killers, but what they do is block pain signals from the spinal cord. We would have to use a needle to inject a catheter and then through the catheter, we inject the medicine into his spine. I won't know where to put the epidural until we get the xrays back, but there is the risk of paralysis, which is my main concern and the reason this is a last resort. With the epidural, we can administer a variety of different drugs including corticosteriods, pain killers and numbing agents straight to the spine without the drugs entering his blood stream. It's the drugs in his blood stream which pose the greater immediate risk, if he were to have another seizure, it would surely kill him. That risk is high and the chances of paralysis from the epidural are slim, but it is a risk."

"A needle in his spine? My poor baby genius." Garcia looked ready to faint. "I'm never going out into the field again."

"How great is the risk of paralysis?"

"Minor, about 10%. But there is also the risk of infection and minor nerve damage. Minor as in not paralysis. This is a last resort. Normally I.V. sedation is the safest, but -"

"But this isn't normal. I understand. Bring me the consent forms," Hotch instructed as he lowered Garcia into the seat before they had two of the team in for head injures.

"Very well. Also if you have that video footage, I would like to see it for myself."

"We'll have it brought over ASAP. Oh and Dr. Cheng, one more thing. We are going to need that knife as evidence and you might want to run an STD panel on Dr. Reid, we believe that knife may have been used in 6 previous murders -"

"5." Emily corrected. "Mrs. Douglas didn't have her throat sliced, she was...never mind," she trailed off, cringing at the memory.

"Very well, I'll add an STD screen to his blood work and since I'm guessing his vaccination record isn't on hand, I'll get him Tetanus and Hepatitis B vaccines as soon as the knife is out."

"Excuse me, Dr.?" Emily approached her before she could leave the waiting room. "Is it okay if I stay with him when he's out of radiology. If him staying still is as important as you say, I think I can keep him calm until the epidural takes effect."

"If it's okay with my patient, and you don't get in the way of my nurses, then yes. And no crime scene talk unless I ask for it, okay?"

"Understood."

"I'll ask him when he's out of radiology. Your name?"

"Emily Prentiss." When she got back to the team, Hotch was pulling keys out of his pocket and handing them to J.J.

"Take Garcia back to Hankel's house to get the footage. We'll call the house if there's any news. If anyone else wants to join them, go ahead. I'm staying here."

"So am I," Morgan and Prentiss answered in the same breath.

"I'll go with you, I know the way." Gideon got up and followed J.J. and Garcia out of the waiting room.

Emily rolled her eyes and Gideon's back. "He knows the way?" she scoffed. "Well that's a lame excuse."

"He doesn't want to see Reid in pain because he feels guilty about the virus warning. Like J.J. feels guilty for splitting up."

"Except that J.J. is begging to see him, Gideon is avoiding him."

"Everyone copes differently."

The three of them sat in silence, not wanting to talk about what happened and not wanting to think about the statistics that Reid would usually be rambling off at this point. _He must be so scared,_ Emily thought sadly. Reid thrives off of information, and being in that much pain with that little information must be terrifying him.

"I don't know about you guys, but I feel like an idiot." Morgan had his head in his hands after the uncomfortable silence became unbearable..

"How so?"

"Does no one find it strange that we couldn't solve this case without Reid. I mean he's the VICTIM and he still solved the case."

"Don't talk about him like that!" came Garcia's sharp tongue from over head. "Sorry, I know he is. But when I think of victims, I think of corpses, and I can't think about him like that. And that stupid Dr. never answered my question."

"She's not stupid, Baby Girl. She's just focused on helping Reid, which is how it should be."

"How could my genius doctor not know that he has a knife in his back, that's kind of a hard thing to miss."

"Not really," Hotch answered, not looking up for the patient information packets the nurse had handed him with the consent forms. "He can't see the injury. He knows he has a back injury that's causing breathing difficulty. It's not unusual for trauma victims not to realize the severity. Some people in car accidents don't even realize it when they loose limbs. There's so much trauma the nervous system can't process all of the pain signals properly. All the patient is aware of is that there is pain and lots of it. They know what hurts but they don't always know why."

"Like phantom pains. People thinking they have pain in limbs they no longer have."

"Something like that. Reid could explain it better. How did you guys get back here so fast?"

"We may have cut a few corners," J.J. answered, handing the keys back to Hotch with a small smile.

"You used the sirens." It wasn't a question.

"You said ASAP. The hospital is actually closer to the Hankel house than it was to the cabin."

"Where's Gideon?"

"Back at the house!" was Garcia's angry retort. "'Well we can't be of any help at the hospital so we might as well get some rest'." She put down the hand quotations and slammed her laptop on the waiting room sofa with a little too much gusto. "Its like he doesn't care," she snarled in a very uncharacteristic way as she powered up the laptop and plugged in a USB drive.

"He cares, he just has a lousy bedside manner."

"It has to exist before it can be lousy. Please tell me he's okay."

"No word yet."

"Well then I'll just have to find some! I don't care if I have to -"

"Garcia, no turning their computer system into - anything. And no hacking security cameras to check on him."

"But Boss Man!"

"No!"

"Fine!" Garcia snapped the laptop lid shut and took off down the hallway towards the nurses' station.

"I do not envy those nurses right now!" J.J. knew Garcia would stop at nothing to get the information she wanted.

"Garcia!"

The cyber tech stopped in her tracks.

"What are you doing?"

"Dr. Cheng wanted the video footage. I'm just following Dr.'s orders," she answered innocently. "I promise no stone age technology."Then she was out of sight.

"Want odds on her resorting to blackmail?"

"I'll take those."

"Emily Prentiss."

Emily looked up to see a tall brunette nurse.

"Yes?"

"Agent Reid is out of radiology. Dr. Cheng said you wanted to see him."

"Yes. How is he?"

"No change in his condition. Dr. Cheng is reviewing the film. Come with me."

"You should know, our tech, Penelope Garcia has the footage Dr. Cheng requested. She's just left to try to track her down. Oh there she is - Garcia!"

"I don't care if -Emily!"

Emily didn't miss the relived look on the nurse's face as Garcia's attention was redirected.

"He's out of radiology. Come with us. Dr. Cheng will be in his room shortly but if he wants to you leave, you have to. Okay."

"Got it. I probably won't be able to stomach anything. I just haven't seen him since I saw it happen on the video and I just -I have to see him - I"

"I know. I know. Just calm down before you go in the room. We don't want you upsetting him. If you can't calm down, then you can wait for Dr. Cheng outside."

"Okay, okay, I'm calm. I'm TOTALLY calm. Absolutely."

"That's right, just keep telling yourself that."

The nurse pulled back the curtain. Garcia couldn't stop the chocking sob as she saw Reid curled up on the bed. He was lying on his side with a couple of pillows separating him from the bed rails. He was clutching a pillow with one hand and the bars with the other. His face was buried in the pillows, the oxygen mask barely visible. They could still hear the sobs and labored breathing. The bed blankets thankfully covered up the knife and the blood but she could still see the outline of it.

"My poor baby!" Garcia wailed, kneeling next to the bed. "Reid, Reid it's Garcia! I'm here. Emily is here." She slipped her hand through the rail and grabbed the one that was clutching the pillow - the one without the I.V. and pulse oximetry machine. Garcia turned to look at Emily, at a loss. She wasn't used to getting no response out of Reid. Reid and silence were never a good combination.

"Is there anything I can get you, Reid? You must be hungry. Do you want some coffee, jello? Just name it, anything." She caressed his check, wiping away the tears. His face was drenched.

"HURTS!"

"I know, baby. I know. It'll be over soon, but you need to eat. You need your strength."

"Reid, it's Emily." She turned to Garcia and motioned her aside. Garcia got up and sat down in the chair along the wall. "Reid, give me a thumbs up for yes and down for no. Do you know what an epidural is?"

One thumb up.

"Okay, Dr. Cheng is reviewing your x-rays. When she comes back, you're going to be prepped for an epidural. It's going to numb your back so the pain will be gone and she can fix you up. You just need to hold on for a few more minutes, okay."

"Gone?"

"Yes, the pain will be gone." She couldn't help but notice the small but short lived smile that crossed his face at the thought. "Hey, how about a song. Got any songs you'd like us to sing." She ran her fingers through his bloody hair.

"Dylan."

"Bob Dylan, okay. We can sing some Bob Dylan. Garcia, know any Bob Dylan songs?"

Emily moved down toward the end of the bed, keeping her hand on Reid's back just below the knife, to make sure it stayed steady if he did move. In the meantime, Garcia reclaimed her place by the head of the bed and took his hand and rested her other one on his bloody hair and started singing 'Shelter from the Storm'. Her voice was shaking through her tears, but Emily thought it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.


	6. Chapter 6

_"I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail_  
 _Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail_  
 _Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn_  
 _"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"_ \- Bob Dylan, Shelter from the Storm

Garcia caressed Reid's cheek and stroked his hair as she sang her second rendition of "Mr. Tamborine Man". She never would have pegged him for a Bob Dylan fan, but whatever helped him get through the night was fine by her.

"Miss Garcia?"

Garcia looked up to see that Dr. Cheng had arrived with two nurses who were already reaching for the guard rails that she had lowered. "It's time to take him upstairs."

"Okay." She turned back to Reid, "Sweetie, these nice nurses are going take you upstairs to get your back all fixed up, okay? I'll be here with your jello when you get back." She patted his head one last time before stepping away from the bed, noticing how he gripped the guard rails as soon as they went back up. "Take good care of him."

"We will." Then he was gone.

"Wait...where is Emily?" Garcia hadn't even seen her leave.

"She's already upstairs." Dr. Cheng replied. "She said you have the footage I ordered?"

"Um yes, I - wait, aren't you going upstairs too?"

Dr. Cheng shook her head. "Not yet. Dr. Baker is the anesthesiologist who will insert the epidural. The prep and procedure will take about 30 minutes. The medicine won't take effect for another 20. We have time."

 _50 more minutes of pain? Ooooh, my poor boy_. She had thought it would be much quicker. 50 more minutes of staying with Reid in pain. The last 10 were all she could handle. She didn't envy Emily. "Oh, right. Footage. Here we go."

"I need to see the first footage of his head injury as well as the cardiac event Agent Hotcher mentioned and the time of the knife injury."

"We see the the head injury in the first footage, but not how he got it," Garcia explained as she pulled up the file and pressed play. As if watching this the first time hadn't been bad enough, now she was going to have to do explaining. She wished she had ear plugs as Reid's voice filled the room.

 _"I won't choose who gets slaughtered..."_

* * *

Emily finally finished her 10 minutes of prep scrubbing. Every time she thought of complaining about the scalding water and smell of beta-dine she kept her trap shut. If it helped Reid, it was worth it. She held still as the nurses put the cap and gown on her, followed by the mask and gloves.

"Now what is your job in this?" the supervising nurse asked her, again.

"To hold him still exactly as told, no matter how much he protests. And to leave when told. No interfering or disruptive questions."

"Very good. You ready for this."

"Not as much as Reid is."

"Alright, let's get this show on the road."

Emily followed them out, making sure to keep her hands up exactly as she was shown.

"This is not an invasive procedure so we'll be using a small room rather than an O.R suite."

"You know when my cousin was born, my uncle held my aunt for her epidural insertion and he didn't have to do all of this."

"This is to maintain sterility for the procedure that will follow. Due to his head injury, Dr. Baker wants the O.R. staff nearby to assist if required, but that's unlikely to be needed. Here we go. After you, Dr. Baker."

Another nurse held open the door as the four of them walked in to see two nurses finishing up the prep of the instrument trays.

"Thank you ladies, we'll take it from here."

The other two nurses left the room, leaving just the four of them and Reid.

"And you must be Emily. Pardon my manners, I'd shake your hand, but..." He wiggled his gloved fingers and laughed. "Hey, Spencer, look who's here. It's your friend, Emily. Speencer...no? Not even a smile. Well don't worry, kiddo, we'll have you feeling better in no time."

Emily stared at the man in disbelief. If ever a doctor reminded her of Patch Adams, it was this guy. He would be great in the pediatric ward.

"Okay so, before we get started, we're going to get you sitting up, Mr. Miss Emily, come right over here."

"Up, Dr.? Shouldn't he stay - " She stopped short at the pointed look that not even the mask on the good doctor's face could cover up. "Sorry, I just -"

"No worries, no worries. Normally I would have Spencer here lying down on his stomach actually, but with his breathing as is, that could cause problems: extra pressure, extra pain. We don't need that, plus you won't be able to hold him as securely while he's on his side like that. So sitting up is best, just needs to be done carefully, that's all. You leave that to us. Just follow our direction and everything will go smoothly."

Emily nodded, her heart twisting in her chest at the sobs and the pained look on Reid's face as the nurses slowly maneuvered him into sitting upright on the edge of the bed.

"Very good, Spencer. Very good."

Apparently this doctor had not been informed about either of Reid's titles, but she didn't think he'd take the interruption kindly. She at least had more sense than Gideon.

"Now, Miss Emily, if you would, come here please." No, she definitely wasn't going to correct him. "Spencer hold onto Emily, put your arms around her neck. That's right give her a nice big bear hug. Head on her shoulders, good. Now, Emily, hold his shoulders like this. No, not around his shoulders, at the side. You're holding his arms mostly. Do not put your hands on his back. That's where I'm going to be working. Now your legs, keep his between yours okay. No wiggle room allowed. There you go. You've got it, just like a pro. Okay now stay like that. Don't move. I'm just going to untie this ugly gown and get your back cleaned up, Spencer. It's going to be cold. Then I'm going give you some local anesthetic to numb you up for the epidural. Okay. That's good. Very good, just like that. Okay, now for the anesthetic injections, just a little pinch."

Emily felt Reid tense in her arms.

"You're okay, Spencer, just relax. I know, easier said than done, but this is so you won't feel the epidural."

"Hurts," Reid sobbed, his body shaking in Emily's stern grip. She could feel the tears falling on her shoulders, and was was glad she couldn't see his face.

"I know, buddy. I know. But you can't move once I start the epidural. You need to stay totally still, okay? Just calm down for me. Hold onto Emily, there you go. How about we play some music. How about that? Dr. Cheng says your friend has quite the voice."

"Oh, no that was..."

That damned pointed look again. "I'm sure Miss Emily is an amazing singer."

Emily opened her mouth to protest, only to shut it again a second later.

"I hear you're a Bob Dylan fan, Spencer."

"I don't know the words..." Emily started to protest.

"No, how about Simon and Garfunkel...?"

"Well I do know 'Cecilia'"

"Well lets hear it. Spencer, you want to hear Emily singing about Cecilia?"

"Speencer...well no 'no' is a yes in my books. I love my double negatives. Okay let's hear it."

Emily started singing as Dr. Baker reached for another injection.

 _"I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please to come home,_ " Dr. Baker's deep voice rang out, as he reached for another injection. How many did he need?

Emily decided that this guy was the craziest doctor she'd ever met. But it was working, Reid was still crying, but he was no longer shaking. He was about as quiet and relaxed as he'd been all night.

"' _When I come back to bed someone's taken my place. Oh Cecilia...'_ Okay, party time is over. Emily's going to have to take over the singing now because it's epidural time. Hold him steady, steady. Spencer, no moving okay."

"Spencer, I need an answer."

"Okay," Reid's faint voice replied.

"Good boy. Now, Emily...how about some 'American Pie'. You know that? Very good, I'm going to go call my friend Patty over here, for just a minute. _A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile_ _..."_ He gave a theatrical wave in Emily's direction as he listened to the phone the nurse held up to his ear.

" _And I knew if I had my chance, I could make those people dance_ _..."_ Emily sang as she listened to Dr. Baker's conversation.

"Hey, Patty, it's Bob. Hey, did you get a chance to see that footage you told me about? Right. Anything I should know about? Anything that might give us trouble over here? Good, good. No, Spencer and Emily are doing just fine. We're all fine here. Just about to start the epidural, just making sure I'm not going to get any nasty surprises. Okay then, see you in 30." He hung up the phone and joined in. " _So bye, bye, Miss American Pie..."_

Emily had forgotten how long that song was until she finally sang " _And the three men I admire most, the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost, they caught the last train for the Coast, the day the music died."_

"No more talk of death. No, I don't think we want that. How about happy thoughts?" Dr. Baker suggested, reaching for a needle. "Okay Spencer tell me when you feel my needle, it's just going to be a tiny pin prick, nothing major. Okay? Okay? Spencer, I'm not going to start the epidural until you talk to me, kiddo."

"Okay."

"Okay good. Now, tell me: Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No."

"No, poor kid. How about your pops. What did you like to do with your pops growing up? Fishing, Football?"

"No."

"No? Why ever not? Every son likes to go camping with his pops."

"Hate him."

"Hate your pops? Why?"

"Left."

"He left you? Well that doesn't make him much of a pops, then does it? How about your mama. You love your mama, right?"

"Love mom."

"Oh good, I've got a mama's boy on my hands. How is she doing these days? She well?"

"No. Sick."

"She's sick, oh I'm sorry to hear that. How about we talk about something happier. First, can you feel anything I've done. Have you felt any pricks?"

"No."

"No? Not even one? You must be superman or something, I've only poked you 8 times. Well, just one more poke okay, one more and then you'll get some of Dr. Baker's Happy Juice. Hmm. Everyone loves my Happy Juice. Here we go, hold him tight, Miss Emily. Now, Spencer, what did I tell you earlier? Do you remember?"

"No moving."

"That's right. You'll feel some pressure, but it shouldn't hurt much. If it does let me know, okay? Okay? Spencer?"

"Okay."

"Nurse Wilson, please hold Spencer's head down."

The second nurse stood behind Emily, holding his bowed head securely against Emily's shoulder.

Dr. Baker gave his nod of approval, then turned back to his tray. "Here we go."

Emily looked down at Reid's shoulders as she held him tight, she did not want to see the needle. She tightened her grip on him, bracing for a fight but it didn't come. He whimpered a little and tightened his grip on her in return. They would both have bruises in the morning, but he didn't move.

"Good job, Spencer. You are a trooper. Worst is over. So, what's your favorite movie?"

"Star Wars."

"Star Wars, huh? Who's your favorite?"

"3P0."

"3P0, I don't get that very often. Why the golden rod?"

"Statist..."

"You like statistics. Well looks like I've got a math nerd on my hands."

Emily rolled her eyes. Dear God, did Dr. Baker know what he was getting himself into? She could tell what he was doing, a clever way of keeping him talking so Dr. Baker could tell if any neurological problems developed from either the procedure or the head wound, but did he have to bring up statistics?

"So tell me, Spencer, what are the odds of Captain Solo successfully navigating an asteroid field?"

"1 in 3 thou-"

"Wow, one in three thousand, that is impressive. Maybe Captain Solo should play the lottery. Sounds like he would win beating odds like that. Oh here's one for you. Riddle me this. What are the odds of Luke finding his sister after bring separated at birth?"

"Don't know."

Emily stared at him as best she could. She never thought she'd ever hear those words from him.

"Oh come on, yes you do. Math nerd like you? Try me."

"6 billion on Earth, bu..."

"Ah, you don't know how many people are in that galaxy far, far away. Well that makes it hard to calculate if you don't have all of your numbers. How about this. Name all of the inhabited planets from Star Wars. Can you do that for me?"

"Alderaan."

"Okay that's 1."

"Tatooine."

"2."

"Hoth."

"No, not Hoth. There's not enough life on that ice cube to fill a space cruiser, remember. Pick another."

"Naboo."

"Naboo? So you've seen the new movies. How did you like them?"

"Didn't."

"You didn't like them? Well my grandson would agree with you, he didn't like them very much either. Got another one for me?"

"Coruscant."

"Don't remember that one."

"Captial."

"I'll take your word for it. Okay so that's four planets. How about now. What are Luke's odds now?"

"24 billion to...no 9 billion to 1."

"9 billion? How do you figure?"

"Human, sister."

"Ah, yes. I did specify sister, didn't I? And I guess aliens, old women and babies don't count. Now that's quite impressive. Here's another math question for you. How many seconds are in 15 minutes?"

"900."

"Okay, so Spencer here's the good news. We are almost done. The epidural is in, which means it is time for Dr. Baker's Happy Juice. Okay? Now the Happy Juice doesn't work _quite_ like magic. It takes about 15 minutes to start working its wonders. So how about we start the count down, okay? We'll help you. I'll start. Let's make it easy. 8-9-9, less of a mouthful that way. Miss Emily?"

"8-9-8."

"Spencer? Spencer, your turn."

"8-9-7."

"8-9-6. Nurse Wilson, over here, please. Let's get Spencer lying down again. Poor boy needs his sleep. Spencer, when was the last time you slept?"

"84 hours, 10 min..."

"84 hours!? Dear boy, you really do need your sleep."

"8-9-5." Emily counted as she slowly let go of Reid and put him in Dr. Baker's capable hands.

The countdown continued until Reid was once again lying on his side, curled up against the pillows. Although this time, he wasn't gripping the guard rail like a life line. He almost looked peaceful.

"Nurse Stewart. Please page Dr. Cheng, I think we're ready for her and escort Miss Emily out if you will. I will see you tomorrow."

Once they left, he turned back to his patient. "So, tell me, Spencer, how well is it working? If your pain level was at a high of 10 when you came in, how is it now?"

"10...before."

"Before the hospital? Or before I got here with the Happy Juice?"

"Before Hosp-."

"Okay, before the hospital and once you got here?"

"8."

"And now?"

"5."

"Good, good. Now are you just counting your back pain or is that including the foot and head?"

"Back."

"Back only, okay so how about the rest. How is that pain?"

"8."

"Still an 8? Okay, Nurse Wilson, how about getting some ice from that O.R. next door."

"Numb?"

"Yes, Spencer, the Happy Juice will numb your back but it won't numb your head and it won't help the swelling. Like I said, it's not _quite_ magical. Less swelling means less pain tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" There was a time not too long ago, when tomorrow seemed like an unattainable dream.

"Yes, Spencer. Tomorrow. You'll feel right as rain tomorrow, or should I say this afternoon. It's already 1 am. You made it to tomorrow. Soon all of this will be one ugly nightmare." Dr. Baker cradled Reid's head in his large hands. The inflammation needed to come down now if the pain level had been at an 8 this whole time. The ice, of course, would not be enough but it was a start until it was safe to give him I.V. medications. "Spencer, don't move. We're going to put ice on your feet and head okay? Which foot hurts the worst?"

"Left."

"Left, okay how about above the ankle?"

"No."

"No, good. Okay, lets pack his feet up and get me one of those cold gel packs."

Dr. Baker turned his head slightly. "Its about to get as cold as Hoth in here, okay. But this will help where the Happy Juice can't reach." He slid the ice cold gel pack under the pillow case. "There you go. Time for bedy-bye. Just close your eyes, Spencer. Close your eyes, go to sleep and when you wake up, your back will be all patched up."

Why couldn't all doctors be like this? Reid wondered as Dr. Baker's gentle hands lowered his head onto the sweet, ice-cold relief. This felt amazing. His back was still hurting in some places and tingling in others, it was strange but comforting, especially as his back got more tingly and less painful. Breathing was even getting easier, well not much easier but less painful. It was still hard, his diaphragm didn't want to work with him, but no sharp stabbing pain with every breath.

Dr. Baker watched happily as Spencer's eyes closed and his breathing evened out. He loved his job. He was a little worried about nightmares, after all Spencer wasn't under general sedation and there was still some involuntary movement to consider since his head and arms weren't numb.

"Well aren't you a little miracle worker?"

"Dr. Cheng, always a pleasure. Just come on over and inspect the handy work." He eyed the I.V. bag and needle in her hand. "I see you brought the candy to the party. Everything all clear to go? Tox screen came back?"

"No but the crime scene vial analysis did come back and this 'candy' can't wait much longer."

"What flavors did you bring?"

"Shot of Erythromycin and bag of ibuprofen. Nurse Wilson, if you please." She handed the medicine off to the the nurse and turned her attention to Dr. Baker.

"Well as you can see I've been busy here. I've got the epidural at the T-5 but the injury goes a little bit higher. I can't go any higher with the numbing agent with his breathing as is, but if you want, I can put in another one and give him some non-numbing pain relief up at the T-1 or 2. What do you think, think you can finish the job like that or should this lucky guy get a double shot of Happy Juice?"

"Well that depends on the amount and flavor of Happy Juice you've already given him in addition to the epidural."

"Eight shots of Lidocain, my Lady."

"8? A bit of an overkill in addition to the epidural, don't you think?"

"I don't think so, it's a huge injury and the sooner he got relief, the less chance of movement during the insertion. I gave him four around the wound and then three of them above the epidural and then of course the one for the epidural itself."

"No, no double shots, then. You're only one inch away from the top of the injury." Dr. Cheng turned to the igloo cooler of ice that had been brought in. "Nurse, is there an ice blanket in that cooler?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Okay, fold it up and drape it across the patient's back and neck just above the wound. The procedure will take a minimum of an hour. I'll start the procedure at the bottom of the wound and work my way up, he'll have plenty of time for the ice to numb his upper back. Between the Lidocain and the cooling he shouldn't feel the slight incision that will be needed up there."

"Well then, I leave him in your capable hands. If you need anything else you know how to find me."

"I believe you'll be in room 410. I hear your Magic Juice is in high demand."

"Ah, but it's not Magic Juice, it's Happy Juice. Makes people happy, but no magic. I do not have a magic wand."

"Well now I know what to get you at the next Secret Santa exchange."

"You can't spoil the secret," Dr. Baker pretended to pout as he walked to the door, turning back to see Spencer sleeping peacefully and unless his ears deceived him...those were snores. One happy patient down, only four more hours to go.

Once he was gone, Dr. Cheng turned her attention to the sickening sight of the knife blade... her pandora's box of the night. She turned to her new entourage of nurses. "Okay, lets get this thing out."

A/N: Dr Baker kind of wrote himself, that character had a mind of his own. I know Reid's favorite is probably Star Trek, but he did give the speil about the Death Star laser and I do know star wars so I picked that one. Who wants me to write the surgery from Reid's P.O.V. and who wants me to skip to the team getting the news? Featured in this chapter were lines from Cecilia by Simon and Garfunkel and American Pie by Don McLean.


	7. Chapter 7

Emily stumbled back into the waiting room to a barrage of unintelligible questions.

"He's fine," was the only answer she could mumble as she collapsed into the nearest chair. She felt like she could sleep for more than 20 minutes for the first time in days.

"Fine? You mean it's out, right?"

"What? No. That's next, the medicine has to numb him first."

"YOU LEFT HIM IN PAIN?"

Emily blinked her eyes to meet Garcia's furious, tearful, mascara-streaked face.

"It's okay, Garcia. He got some local anesthetic, I think Dr. Baker gave him more than was required."

"Oh, I like Dr. Baker."

"You would, he'd fit right in with the circus clowns."

"So, if he's numb why isn't it OUT?"

"Patience, young one. It's local anesthetic, probably Lidocaine, not enough for him to tolerate the removal. That'll happen once the Happy Juice starts working its magic...sorry, wonders, not magic. No magic."

"Happy Juice?" Hotch eyed her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, like I said, Dr. Baker belongs in the circus. Any news on those blood tests?"

"No on the tox screen and STD panels. The good news is that they didn't find any other drugs at the cabin and the analysis came back positive for LSD and Dilaudid, so narcotic pain killers are off the table since we still don't know how much he was given, but he's finally getting I.V. antibiotics..."

"Why didn't she do that as soon as he got here?! Couldn't they see that dirty knife? That thing must be covered in tiny creepy crawlers. Ugh. Incompetent jerks!"

"Baby Girl, no insulting the doctors. She made the right call going to radiology first. Penicillin is a Beta Lactum antibiotic, if she had given him that, he'd probably be dead even without the knife."

"Oh."

"Right, 'Oh'. He's in good hands."

"So what IS he getting?"

"Erth-something."

"Erythromycin," Hotch finished. "It's a different class of antibiotics, different method of infection fighting, but just as effective. Relax."

"Should we call Gideon?"

"No, let him call us. I'm not initiating a call until that THING is out."

"Didn't he want to know what we know?"

"Well then maybe next time he'll stay."

"Next time? How often does this kind of thing happen. What are you people not telling me?"

Dr. Cheng barely refrained from putting her head in her hands. She loved being an E.R. doctor but there were some cases that tried even the most experienced: such as Dr. Spencer Reid. Never in her 15 years had she come across a patient with such headache inducing injuries and complications. Head trauma, can't do an MRI, so few answers from colleagues, knife in the back with no chance of general anesthesia, unknown drug usage. Usually family knew what the patient had access to, or the timeline of an injury and with the kidnapper dead, only the patient had her answers. Her patient who couldn't say more than two words at a time without excruciating pain.

"Okay, Nurse Stewart, run down the abnormal labs with me. Hemoglobin?"

"10.9."

Damn. Agent Hotcher hadn't mentioned anemia. It was likely he didn't even know. Dr. Reid probably took his OTC iron pills and hadn't mentioned it because it was so easy to control, but with blood loss and no pills for three days the number had started to fall again.

"Platelets borderline at 155."

Double damn. "Someone stop the ibuprofen." She would restart the medication once the platelet level went up. It was possible that his count was normally borderline which would usually still be safe. Or it meant he could have a serious infection or pre-existing condition lowering it, maybe even an un-diagnosed one. Great, more complications... The good news was he didn't have a fever so infection wasn't likely. The reference range went up to almost 400 with a low of 150. The most likely scenario, though, was the drugs again. If it was the drugs cutting the platelet level in half then once they were cleared from his system it would be safe to give him the ibuprofen again. Any more blood thinning and they'd be in dangerous territory. Good thing the ibuprofen was only hooked up for a few minutes. Looked like they would have to stick with heat and ice for inflammation treatment for the next several hours.

"How about glucose?"

"Um, 71.

Triple damn.

"Creatinine/ BUN.."

"Don't need those or the liver enzymes right now."

She knew he was dehydrated and on drugs. Those could be fixed later, but the others...Shit.

"Okay, what's his blood type?"

"AB positive."

Finally, some good news. Universal Recipient.

"Someone get me glucose tabs and one, no two bags of blood and start a transfusion immediately." They couldn't start yet. The wound wasn't bleeding very much but this kid couldn't afford to loose much at all. He wasn't coughing up blood which meant that the knife, while dangerously close to the lungs, hadn't punctured one or torn the Aorta...yet. 71 was still considered normal for sugar, anything below 65 and he was liable to have a hypo attack of convulsions. Thankfully a seizure was unlikely as long as his number stayed above 50 but blood loss would not help with that. Then of course there were the platelets.

A nurse placed the glucose tablet under his tongue so it could dissolve without needing to be swallowed while another hung a bag of blood on the I.V. stand.

"Get another I.V. in his other arm."

That'll wake him up. They didn't need two lines right now, but they would soon. The sound of snores had been reassuring at first, at least he wasn't unconscious, but she did need him awake to monitor his neurological condition and snoring meant restricted airways which meant breathing difficulties and involuntary movement. Never mind the damage that could be done during the throes of a nightmare. Then there was the shivers from the cold, but the best way to avoid head trauma complications was to get any inflammation down. Also, the cold would slow down his blood flow, making any bleeding more manageable. It was just a matter of risk management, if putting up with involuntary shivers meant avoiding a full on seizure and hemorrhaging, then it was worth it.

"Hold him steady!"

A strangled cry reverberated round the room.

Spencer Reid was first aware of the sharp prick to his hand, followed by the overwhelming feeling of being trapped in a freezer, except freezers didn't hurt. What ever happened to the promise of blissful numbness? Oh, right. His arms weren't numb. He couldn't look up, but noticed the lack of a familiar calming voice.

"Emily?"

"Emily had to leave."

Leave? But..

"You're okay. We're going to start fixing you up in a minute. We just need an extra I.V. line for a blood transfusion."

Blood transfusion? He didn't think he'd been bleeding that badly. What the hell had happened to him? And why did he need to ask such a basic question.

Okay, Dr. Cheng took a deep breath. Blood bags, glucose tablets, no snoring. Pulse ox...she glanced at his wrist monitor...96. Rather low with an oxygen mask but better than the 91 it had been at his admission.

"Okay, Dr. Reid if you feel anything painful on your back let me know. I need you to stay awake, okay." Sometimes Dr. Baker was almost too good.

Damn sadistic bastards. What had the nice Dr. said? Oh, yes, time for sleep and bed time. He longed for sleep, the drug high and hallucinations hadn't helped with sleep at all. If anything, his body felt more sluggish after a hallucination as if the drugs had dropped a twenty-pound weight in his gut.

"Okay Dr. Reid, I need you to answer some questions."

Reid was hoping for more star wars quizzes. He was more than a little annoyed when she asked, "When did you get that head wound?"

Really? He was surrounded by strange nurses, having God only knew what done to his numbed up back and she was asking about his head?!

"Dr. Reid?"

"Three days."

"Three days ago? How did it happen?"

"Shovel."

"You were hit in the head with a shovel?"

"Yes." Reid squeezed his eyes shut as Hankel's voice echoed in his head. 'Shoot him, you weakling! He's a satan!' You're okay, Reid told himself. You're in the hospital. Stop, stop thinking...but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Why were they doing this? Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Dr. Cheng noticed the change in his breathing and the return of the sobs. She put down the scalpel, eyeing her very small incision with dissatisfaction. This was not going to work.

He hadn't even flinched when she made the incision, so the sobbing had to be nightmare recollection, not pain. She needed him calm. Following her predecessor's example, which had obviously worked wonders, she started singing. She wasn't like Dr. Baker, she couldn't keep up a lively discussion and focus on her work but singing? As a member of the church choir she found singing to be calming. She didn't know what his faith was, but she trusted the calming tone alone would ease his anxiety. She could keep herself to one question in between songs. That ought to give her answers and give him some peace.

 _"My chains are gone, I've been set free..."_

"It's been three hours!" Penelope Garcia growled at no one in particular. The rest of the team was half asleep, haphazardly slumped over the chairs, their eyes refusing to close even if their brains had shut down. But she couldn't sleep, not even for 5 minutes. Every time she closed her eyes she saw his bloody hospital blanket and heard his sobs. "My poor babies. I'm never coming out to the field again." She thought her crime scene photos were bad enough...but this. Having a victim in her care...one of her babies being the victim? It was too much to handle.

"Garcia, trying to sleep over here!" Emily moaned, amazed at the tech's energy level. Was she the only one who had slept in the last three days?

"How can you possibly -?"

"Spencer Reid!" a familiar voice called out from the waiting room doorway.

"Here!" came a bunch of voices with varying amounts of energy, no one comparing to Garcia who bolted out of her chair and made a beeline for Dr. Cheng. "How is he?"

"Just fine."

"Fine. Vague, so vague. What does fine mean? Does fine mean out? Please tell me it's out." Garcia decided she loved seeing stressed out doctors smiling. That couldn't be a bad thing.

"It's out. He made it."

"Oh my God!" Suddenly a hundred pound weight fell off her shoulders and she could breathe again. She hadn't even known she was holding her breath. "For reals, it's really out? Can I see him? I need to see him...like now."

"Unfortunately no. My nurses have him in radiology..."

"Again? Didn't he already go there?"

"For the xray, but we couldn't get MRI tests with that knife. So we're back tracking. But I did get a picture for you." She took out her cell phone and gave it to Garcia.

Garcia had been expecting a picture of Reid, lying on the hospital bed on his back, but what she got was... "Ugh...what is...that is..." It was blood and icky stuff is what it was. Black and bloody and...not pretty.

"Those," Dr. Cheng pointed to the black spots against white flesh and blood, "are staples in his back."

"Staples in Reid's back? I wanted to see this because...?"

"Staples, no knife."

"No knife. Staples. No knife." Suddenly black and icky was pretty. "So he's okay. We can take him home tomorrow...or today. Wait, what time is it?"

"I'm going to need to keep him a few days for observation. I took a wound culture to check for infection and I'll need to check out that head injury. But for now, I suggest you all go get some sleep now."

"Sleep, you mean leave him?"

Dr. Cheng nodded. "He's out of immediate danger. I suspect the cardiac arrest was from the drugs which should be flushed out of his system in a few days and not the head wound. If it hasn't caused any problems in the last three days, then I expect the MRI to be clean but I need to know for sure. He's going to need help in the next few days as he goes through narcotics withdrawal. I'm going to put him on some nausea medicine and non-narcotic pain killers to at least take the edge off. He's going to be in pain and misery, but not danger."

"Can I just go back to his room and wait and sleep there? I don't want him walking up alone."

"You may, but he'll probably sleep most of the day. And now, Agent Hotchner." Dr. Cheng indicated to a wheelchair that was brought over with a hospital gown. "Sit"

"I'm fine."

"I understand your concern for Dr. Reid's far more severe injury but you were still shot!"

"In my bulletproof vest." Hotch's glare promised pain to anyone who had told.

"The very reason I did not force the issue sooner. You need a minimum of a chest xray. Who knows, we might even see Dr. Reid down there."

Hotch sat down in the wheelchair, knowing that fighting with the doctors was a loosing battle. If this was the quickest way to check on his agent's condition then so be it. He turned to his team. "Go back to the house. Get some sleep."

"I can't, Boss Man. That place has bad karma. Please don't make me go back there."

"Okay, Garcia can stay. Everyone else, go back to the house, your go-bags are there anyway. I'll meet you there tomorrow and then we'll get hotel rooms until Reid is ready to leave." There was no way, he was staying more than a day. "And someone call Strauss to tell her the good news. I promise to call you all as soon as he's awake."

A/N. I am not a doctor. I have a little bit of medical training. I emphasis the little part. I have done my best to make this as realistic as possible, but I am no expert so no using this information for real-life. You do that, it's at your own risk.

Amazing Grace was written by John Newton and the added verses of 'My Chains are Gone' were written by Chris Tomlin.

We've got one...maybe two chapters left if I stretch it out.


	8. Chapter 8

This was it, Agent Hotchner decided as he put down the hospital room phone receiver after calling Haley. Penelope Garcia was going to drive him insane. Maybe if he threatened to have her drug tested, she'd stop her pacing. Even with the curtain drawn, she was still managing to annoy him.

He pulled the curtain aside. "Garcia. It's 5 am, you can not possibly have this much energy."

"Boss Man, how could you possibly leave the radiology department without seeing Reid?"

"There was no point, Reid was already in the MRI machine and that test takes almost an hour."

"Which means he should be here by now! Don't tell me they found something? They're doing more tests because they found something wrong with the genius baby!"

"The baby genius is fine!" a groggy, shaky voice interrupted the argument.

"REID?!"

Two sets of eyes turned toward the door as a hospital bed was rolled in.

Garcia turned on her heels and ran across the room. "Reid?"

Garcia rushed to his side - drinking in the beautiful sight. His hair had been washed and combed. His face was free of dirt and blood. He looked healthy, even better, he was laying down on his back and not crying in pain. Garcia noticed how still he was. He wasn't making an effort to move - at all. Reid was usually a bundle of energy. Him being awake and this still was a paradox. She reached out to touch his face only to feel a chill go up her spine."Are you...?"

"I'm alright. I feel fine"

"Fine? You're _freezing_?"

"I feel like a human icicle, but no pain."

"No pain?"

"No pain. Dr. Baker covered my injuries with ice packs to help treat the inflammation. They had to be removed for the MRI."

"I see that genius brain has been rebooted."

Reid turned his head, surprised to hear Hotch of all people make a computer joke, only to stop short at the sight of his unit chief walking slowly towards them, dragging along an I.V. stand and sporting the very unfashionable hospital attire. "You're hurt?"

"Bullet in the vest. I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He took the seat nearest Reid's bed, opposite Garcia. "I'm sure they'll let me go when they see my normal chest x-ray. They've got me on Ibuprofen, that's it."

"You were shot? I'm sorry."

Well he was talking more than he had all night and his breathing seemed stable. "Reid, calm down. I'm fine. Why are you sorry?"

"I named you. You were shot because I named you."

"No, I was shot by a delusional killer who thought 7 team members was too many. It wasn't your fault. If you hadn't named someone you would have been killed. You were trying to stay alive, I can't hold that against you. You made it, I'm proud of you. You know that?"

"I do now."

"Now, I believe there was something you were trying to tell me back at the cabin?"

Reid smiled for the first time all night. "I knew you'd understand."

Hotch wanted to ask Reid why he had confessed when he was so close to rescue, but kept his mouth shut. Happy thoughts, keep him on happy thoughts. "We weren't about to give up. You solved the case. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Hey, Reid!" Garcia had to interrupt before depressing topics came up. She did not want to talk about the cabin. She did not know what happened. She did not want to know. "You know, I never pegged you for a Bob Dylan fan."

"I'm not." Reid smiled. Smiling was very addicting when pain suddenly disappeared. "My mom is. I kept thinking about her - about what would happen to her if I didn't make it. I needed that reminder. Thank you."

"So, it helped? I helped?"

"Yes, you did."

She made that girly squeaky noise and leaned to hug him. Reid normally preferred his personal space un-invaded, but he was more than willing to return this one.

"Gently, Garcia," Hotch admonished. Reid was going to be in enough pain tomorrow without broken ribs.

"Do you want a blanket? Let me get you a blanket, you are too COLD!" Two seconds of contact was all she could handle. He need warm things...what kind of warm thing could she get him? Blankets, coffee. He loved coffee, maybe hot chocolate with those little marshmallows...

"Ice treatment, Garcia. It feels great."

Garcia could tell he was lying. Being that cold could not be fun, but it was a decent trade from the mind-bending pain so she decided to drop it. "So if you're not a Bob Dylan fan, then what do you like?"

"Knock, knock," a familiar accented voice came from the doorway. "I hate to break up the party, but duty calls."

Hotch could tell from both sets of body language that Reid and Dr. Cheng were not going to enjoy this little talk. "Garcia, I think it's a good time to return Hankel's truck."

"Oh he won't miss it!"

"Garcia! I think the team will appreciate an update."

"But I can -" That darned glare. It was Hotch's 'don't mess with me glare.'

"...text," she finished sullenly. "Okay, but I need a non-icky picture to show the team."

Dr Cheng was more than willing to take the chair that Garcia vacated. She leaned over the bed guard rail and smiled on the count of three. The flash went off.

"So, Reid, what kind of jello do you want tomorrow - sorry, this afternoon?"

"Strawberry."

"No, I do not need a scare of thinking you have a throat infection. Pick another."

"Blueberry."

"Blueberry it is. Hotch?"

"I'm fine."

"Aaron Hotchner, you are in the hospital. All hospital patients get jello - and no blueberry. I can't have you eating all of Reid's."

"Lime." Whatever got her out of the room and wasting less of the good doctor's time was fine by Hotch.

"Okay, I'll be back."

"Garcia!"

"Yes?"

"Let the team know I do not want to see anyone before noon."

"Got it!"

As soon as the bubbly tech was gone, even the air seemed quiet. Reid looked tense, like he'd been dreading this.

"So what news?" Hotch broke the awkward silence.

"Well we'll start with the good news."

That meant there had to be bad news.

"I took a wound culture which won't be back for a couple of days, unfortunately. The STD panels were negative, but will need to be repeated in three months to confirm. MRI showed a mild concussion, but it should heal on its own. Dr. Reid will need to keep his activity level to a minimum but I don't expect it to cause further damage."

He hated when people spoke about him in the third person, but he supposed she was talking to Hotch more so than to him. After all, post-op patients weren't the most lucid people in the world.

"The bad news is that the tox screen is back."

Here it comes. It was like waiting for the guillotine to fall. Reid closed his eyes at those ominous words. He knew he needed the information that Dr. Cheng was about to give. That didn't mean that he had to see the disappointment in Hotch's eyes as the details were unraveled. He doubted Hotch would still be proud of him after this lecture. He was glad Garcia had been dismissed. He didn't want to be the reason for her smile vanishing.

"The Dilaudid and LSD levels are off the charts, there's no doubt that's what caused the seizure and cardiac arrest."

So that's what Hankel had given him, well that explained a lot.

"Now, most post-op patients get narcotic pain relief, but that won't be the case here."

What? No more pain relief?

"I'll need to have the numbing wear off so I can check his nerve impulses."

All of this wonderful pain relief was going to be gone?

"Dr. Reid, are you listening?"

"You're going to take away the Happy Juice?" He didn't care that he sounded like a whining child. Damn it, he wanted his pain meds!

Dr. Cheng smiled, you always knew Dr. Baker's patients. "He'll bring you some more after we can confirm that you haven't suffered any nerve damage."

A full exam? Wouldn't screaming in pain be enough of a clue?

"But the drugs cause an even bigger problem. We have Dr. Reid on a blood transfusion because we believe the drugs have destroyed most of his platelets. The number is bordering on deficiency and since Ibuprofen thins blood, it would be dangerous to give him any, but we need inflammation control, which is why my nurses are going to be in shortly to draw more blood and reapply the ice packs. He will also be getting Tetanus and Hepatitis B vaccines. Once the numbing starts to wear off, we're going to give Dr. Reid Gabapentin and Tylenol with Codeine -"

That's it!? Reid made a strangled noise of disbelief. I have back surgery and all I get is Tylenol? That doesn't even help my headaches!

"Once the drug levels go down to a non-lethal level, then we can give him something stronger."

Now that was more like it.

"You're going to give him more?"

"He will need it. It's going to take more than a day for the drugs to drop to a safe level -"

A whole day on just Tylenol? The two hours between his back injury and the Happy Juice had been bad enough.

"But when they do, I will recommend that he be given a narcotic pain killer, but in the form of extended release pills-."

"Why in pill form? I.V. administration - "

"Would cause your numbers to climb back to dangerous levels."

"I was going to say, it would work faster."

"That may be true, but narcotics are addictive..."

Wow! Really? I had no idea!

"And given how high these numbers are, I'm more than a little worried about you developing a dependency."

"It was only three days." Three days of Hell yes, but still only three days...

"Three days of continual use, according to the tox screen. The withdrawal is going to be highly unpleasant. Its actually quite dangerous to quit this stuff cold turkey which is why I'm going to recommend tapering off with a mild dose. It should ease the experience somewhat. The 'good news' is that LSD addiction is psychological, not physical which means you'll suffer the effects of it while its in your system, but it won't cause withdrawal symptoms. Dilaudid on the other hand..."

Hotch noted that Reid refused to look at either of them as Dr. Cheng listed off her unpleasant expectations for the rest of the day and maybe tomorrow as well. First there was the LSD which was expected to cause insomnia, hallucinations, tremors, convulsions, sweating and anxiety just to name a few. Then there was the Dialudid, the physical withdrawal of which included a lot of the same -minus the hallucinations - in addition to irritability, rapid heart rate, increased blood pressure, diarrhea and vomiting, muscle pain... Yeah, Reid was going to be in a world of pain. He had been assuming that sheer exhaustion would lead to Reid sleeping through most of the withdrawal but now he wasn't so sure, especially since most sleep aids contained alcohol which was out of the question.

He took the medication list from Dr. Cheng. Tylenol with Codeine, Gabapentin for nerve pain, Zofran for nausea, Metaxalone for a muscle relaxer, activated charcoal for the detox, iron pills for anemia. Ibuprofen listed with a note of "when safe".

"I know none of this is going to be pleasant, but keep in mind that the worst of the danger has passed. My new concern is the fact that he's dehydrated prior to the detox. We'll be running tests every two hours: urine and blood tox screens as well as cmp and cbc counts. I'm waiting to hear back from his PCP about his most recent blood work to see how much of his abnormal labs are attributed to the drugs. With levels this high, we would normally refer our patients out to a rehab facility -"

Rehab? It didn't matter if he had to throw a tantrum worthy of a two-year-old, he was NOT going there! That was too close to a sanitarium for his liking.

" - but Agent Hotcher tells me he's not seen any sign of previous drug use, which is supported by the fact that the only tox screen levels that came back positive were the ones also found in the vials. Therefore, I'm going to recommend to your non-ER doctor - Dr. Lawrence Wilson, who will be on shift at 7 - that you be kept in-patient for the duration of the detox. Your back will be in pain for some weeks to come so I will also be recommending physical therapy and pain management referrals for when you are back in D.C. Any questions?"

"When can I go home?" This place sounded like it was run by an unsub. Maybe he could get Garcia to do a background check.

"It would be advised, but not medically necessary, to stay for the duration of the detox which can last anywhere from 3-6 days."

6 days?

"He'll stay," Hotch promised before Reid could interrupt.

The nurse came in a few minutes after Dr. Cheng left. Hotch watched as Reid's blood was drawn and the vaccines were administered - as if he hadn't had enough sharp things in his skin already that night. With the bandages on and the ice repacked, Hotch closed his eyes, hoping that Reid would be able to do the same. He trusted the doctors to wake him if anything horrendous happened...and by horrendous, he meant heart attack or seizure. Anything less could wait until noon. He only hoped that the rest of the team could get enough sleep to be of help to Reid later because he was going to need all the help he could get.

Okay, so apparently I'm dragging it out. I'm on a roll and loving it. Please review. I know there wasn't a lot of action in this chapter, but the explanations took longer than I thought and this seemed like a good stopping point.


	9. Chapter 9

Spencer Reid had never felt so torn or confused in his life. It was like his brain cells had decided to go on vacation without him. He wasn't sure if he was pissed off at his Unit Chief or grateful to him. How could he be so torn between such polar opposites? The bile started to rise in his throat and his muscles started to burn and rip apart again. Oh, right, that was why. The barf bag was in his face before he could reach for it.

Hotch held it under Reid's nose as he was sick...again.

Why had he eaten so much for breakfast? The disgusting broth had smelled so good after three days of whatever Tobias had brought in. But now the epidural had worn off as well as the lidocaine. Even the ice packs had been removed, but the effect still lingered. The pain was dulled but it was no longer cold enough to be numb. He almost felt like he was home sick on a snowy day...almost.

Damn, weren't post-op patients supposed to get pain relief? Oh right, Gabapentin and Tylenol with Coedine. That was a joke.

Hotch took a rag and wiped the vomit off of Ried's chin. He gently lowered Reid back against the raised hospital bed. "Reid, sleep. Please," he begged his youngest agent.

"Can't," Reid moaned, his breath coming in painful gasps. Not again.

Hotch ran his hand through Reid's sweat and vomit soaked hair. How had he managed to get the vomit there? He grabbed the oxygen mask and held it to Reid's face, noticing the tremble in his agent's hands as he tried to grab it from the bed rail.

"Just try, Reid. Close your eyes. That's it." Hotch mentally checked off the drug and withdrawal symptoms, feeling almost certain that the day was going to get worse before it got better. Hotch himself was still half asleep and could not imagine for the life of him how Reid could possibly be coherent. Even Jack slept more than this. He was almost desperate enough to slip the injured doctor a sleeping pill, even if he had to steal it...

"J.J.?"

Hotch turned around to find that Morgan and J.J. had slipped silently into the room.

"Spence."

J.J. was a beautiful woman by all accounts, but right now she'd never looked better - even with no make up and her hair thrown up in a bun.

They weren't sure who had reached out first, but in a matter of seconds, the oxygen mask was off and they were in each other's arms. Despite the pain, Reid didn't dare let go.

"I'm so sorry," J.J. cried on his shoulder. The thought of how close she'd come to loosing her 'little brother' had been giving her nightmares all night. Seeing him lucid and safe was like nothing she'd ever felt before. She moved her arms from his shoulders down his back, tracing the outline of the bandages and epidural catheter through the hospital gown. "I'm so sorry."

"Its alright. It's not your fault. I was so worried about you, the whole time..." His stopped short as he tried to choke back the tears. He was surprised he had any left. "I thought you..."

J.J. tried to pull back to look Reid in the eye, but he tightened his grip, as if he was afraid of letting go.

"I thought you were dead. We had two unsubs in the profile. I heard the gunshots and I..."

"Reid, look at me!" J.J. forced him to let go, keeping her hands on his shoulders. "I shot the dogs."

"Hankel said -"

"Hankel lied. His dogs tried to attack me in the barn, but they didn't get to me. I wasn't hurt."

"Not hurt?"

"No, I wasn't hurt." She kept her hands on his shoulders. "Take a deep breath for me okay. The case is over, we made it. You're safe now."

"Don't leave me!" Reid reached back out to her, his lips trembling as he bit back the tears. Reid wasn't sure what was going on - but it wasn't the pain driving the tears. He didn't know what it was - he hated that. But being held, knowing that this was reality - not a dream or a nightmare, was somehow extremely important at that moment. Dreams, nightmares, reality, they were all so different so how did it feel like all of them at once? The pain was a nightmare. Seeing J.J. unharmed was like a dream come true, but the hug? The hug felt real, to have someone touching him who wasn't inflicting pain - intentional or otherwise - made him feel alive in a way that he hadn't for so long.

J.J. didn't fight it. "I won't," she promised. She leaned into the embrace, noticing for the first time that his hospital gown was wet with sweat and he was trembling. Knowing that music had calmed him down last night through the worst of the pain - but not trusting her own voice - she began humming the tune of a long forgotten lullaby as she rocked him in her arms reminding him that he was safe. "I'm not going anywhere."

Derek Morgan, ever the stoic muscle man, surveyed the scene - his profiler brain impossible to turn off. Hotch was exhausted beyond help. If adrenaline had kept the man running this long - then the tank had to be on empty. He doubted that his boss could have driven down to the field office even if he was allowed to. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he even thought that Hotch may be delaying his own discharge just for the chance to sleep without feeling guilty about leaving Reid alone. Then there were J.J. and Spence, whose shared terror of that night had them clinging to each other as anchors to sanity. He had seen it before, so many times when victims were reunited with the family they had last seen. It was the terror, coupled with relief coming to bear down on them like a tidal wave. It was odd to see such emotions displayed within the normally professional team - except none of them had been victimized before.

Not true, he reminded himself. Elle Greenaway had been victimized, shot in her own home and it had destroyed her. He wouldn't let that happen to Reid. He thought back to those days after the shooting. They had to learn from that. They had given Elle her space, perhaps too much. What had she said as Lee was walked out of the police station? _"I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?!"_ and what had J.J. said back at the Hankel house? _"...but if I'd had his back, like I was supposed to, then he'd be here right now."_ Elle had been in the wrong confronting the suspect so soon but the team had been perhaps too hard on Elle, less understanding and more critical. Reid and J.J. should not have split up. That much could be accepted, but the aftermath? It made sense at the time to be professional with Elle, to keep their distance and let her deal with it - but knowing text book victim behavior and helping one were two different things. The only person who had made a decent effort to connect to Elle had been Reid. Mind you, according to Reid, she had been drinking at the time and hadn't been very talkative, but he had tried. They had to do that for him, that and then some, no matter how unpleasant it was. They had to support him in every way possible or the Reid that they knew - the love-able young geek with an infectious laugh and a love of physics magic would be nothing more than the ghost of a memory.

He picked up his cell phone and made a call he hoped he wouldn't regret.


	10. Chapter 10

* _We'll paint the grey clouds._

 _With pretty rainbow hues,_

 _And we'll brush the gloom away._

 _And save it for a rainy day. Rainy day_

 _Oh, today._ * Tomorrow is another day, Disney's Rescuers, 1977

J.J. held onto Reid as she hummed a lullaby, the words long forgotten. She closed her eyes as if she could stop the tears and shut out the sight of the graveyard. But no matter what song she sang or what happy thought she tried, nothing could erase the images of mutilated bodies: whether it was Rosalyn's or Reid's. She had always wondered what it felt like to be the one to discover a dead body. Now she knew: ignorance truly was bliss.

 _No you don't_ , she told herself. _He's not dead. He's alive. He's alive._

"Are my boys okay?" Garcia tiptoed into the room, carrying a tray laden with jello, games, several steaming mugs.

"Think you brought enough?" J.J. asked reaching for the coffee.

"That's for..."

"Speeenceer..." J.J. whistled. "Garcia brought you a treat." She waved the cup under his nose. He couldn't resist.

Reid turned his puffy red eyes towards Garcia, his head not leaving J.J.'s shoulder. "Jello, my favorite."

Reid pulled back from J.J., whether out of embarrassment or hunger, she wasn't sure, but he reached for the blue jello and leaned back on the bed.

"So, how's my little Popsicle?"

"Better," Reid replied as Garcia felt his forehead. It was still too cold for her liking. "So which would you like, Reid? Coffee, hot chocolate..."

"Neither!" a voice bellowed from behind the other side of the room. The curtain was pulled aside to reveal a very tired unit chief who didn't even turn to his team, his head buried in the pillow. "He needs sleep!"

"Chamomile tea it is. We'll get you warmed up in no time."

"That's better. Keep it down and don't wake me until the doctor gets here." It didn't matter if hell had to freeze over along with Reid. He was going to sleep!

"Okay, so I've got scrabble, a deck of cards, chess and monopoly. Take your pick, Reid."

"I don't really feel like -"

"Uh-uh. You need to have some fun, young man, and since we can't take you out on the town, this is the next best thing. Pick one."

"Monopoly." It wasn't often that he had time for a long game and maybe, just maybe a strategic game could keep his mind off of the hell that was beginning to brew in his body. "Did you know that Fidel Castro banned the game of Monopoly in 1959 because it served as a reminder of capitalism..."

J.J. and Garcia were caught halfway between an eye roll and a laugh.

Their Reid was back.

Reid sipped his chamomile tea as he picked the horse for his game piece, watching J.J. and Garcia's smiling faces. He felt sick, in more ways than one. It was as if to them, the last three days hadn't happened. They could just wipe the memory away with a little game. He would indulge them if for no other reason than he wanted it to work so bad. His back was stinging something fierce and his stomach felt like some it was being torn apart, but he knew better than to ask the doctor for pain medicine. He had all that he was going to get for the next several hours. He was just going to have to suck it up. At least now he could breathe without fearing that his lungs would collapse on him.

He shifted in his bed again, trying to get comfortable. It was impossible. J.J. watched him as if from a microscope. "Spence, are you okay?"

Was he okay? That depended on the definition of 'okay'.

"I'm fine."

"Spence..."

Reid avoided her eyes, scanning his cards. If only he could roll a six, he could get Park Place. Boardwalk was almost useless without it.

Garcia rolled a...5. Nope, not useless after all.

"50 please."

"Spence, talk to me." J.J. took the dice as Garcia handed over the fake currency.

"I'm not dying."

"Not dying and fine are not the same thing, and you know it. How are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling?" Reid reiterated sarcastically. Well if she really wanted to know... "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes," she answered, her moment of hesitation giving her away. Reid made a grab for the dice, but J.J. held them out of his reach.

"J.J. give him the dice."

"Not until he talks to me. Reid, you were crying on my shoulder for twenty minutes and then act like nothing's wrong."

"He doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to." If Reid started talking, she was leaving. He could get all of the warm cuddly things he wanted: sweets, hugs, a shoulder to cry on, anything as long as he didn't give her nightmares.

"PLAY NICELY!" Well, Hotch really was irritated.

She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Please, I want to help, and I can't if I don't know what happened."

"You know what happened! I ran after the unsub and got a shovel to the head and chains for three days. And don't tell me that you honestly think forcing me to relive the worst days of my life is going to help! There is nothing to be gained by forcing me to relive that!" Sure they made victims tell horrible tales from the relative comfort of a police station but that was always to help catch the killer before anyone else could be hurt. If Tobias didn't have an accomplice then they had no excuse to torture him.

"You're angry at us. Why?" She didn't want to know, he could tell by the tremble in her voice.

"Why?" his voice broke. He wiped away the traitorous tears. He thought back to when he was sitting in that chair, chained and watching the mutilation on the laptop screen. He put his hands up to his face as if he could block out the images swirling through his brain. "What were their names?"

"Michael and Pamela Hayes," she answered. She had been about to answer for Mrs. Douglas and the boyfriend but Reid didn't know about them. They had already left...

"I thought.." Reid closed his eyes took a deep breath, willing himself to stop crying. "I thought you were coming then."

Garcia's heart broke in half at the sight of her Junior G-man crying. She moved in to give him a hug, but he pushed her away.

"Why?" he screamed. "I trusted you, I trusted you to find me!" His voice was coming in through hiccoughing sobs. "You always save people with your computer...but the one time that _I_ need you...not some stranger you'll never see again. It was me. They get everything and I got nothing!"

"Reid...I tried." Garcia wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug him, but he had curled up into a ball, his hair hanging in his face. The words suddenly sounded useless but she had to say them. "He was re-routing his IP address, I couldn't track him. I tried, baby, I tried. I promise. I wanted nothing else, but I couldn't."

"We did everything we could, Spence." J.J. started to rub his back, but stopped as his body tensed, whether from physical or emotional discomfort she couldn't tell. She pulled her hand away, attempting to untangle his limbs to no avail. "Look at me. We went through everything in Hankel's house..." She stopped, knowing it was useless. Reid hadn't been there to see the team working through the night, pouring through hundreds of notebooks, searching for any clue.

"When he left, I didn't actually think they would die. I thought we could still save them. I was so sure."

"Reid." It was Hotch. He had listened to enough. "If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me."

"Can't," Reid moaned. "You figured it out. You saved me."

"No. You saved yourself. You gave us the clue, at gun point no less. I should not have sent my two most inexperienced agents out together with no way to call for help.

Reid shook his head. "You couldn't have known he was..."

"We should have just called Hankle and asked him to come to the field office for questioning."

"And I should have gone into the house to call for back up after Hankel ran outside."

"Reid, listen to me. There were a lot of things that went wrong in this case, but ultimately the only one who is at fault is Hankel."

Reid was too far gone. Hotch shook his head at J.J. and Garcia, motioning for them to take the game away.

Hotch put a hand on Reid's shoulder, struggling between comfort and professionalism. "Is there someone you want to stay with you?"

Reid shook his head. He just wanted to go to sleep and pretend like nothing had ever happened. The rest of the team seemed to be managing that quite well.

"How about your mom?" Garcia spoke up, cautiously. She had been noticing Reid's phone going off at the Hankel house. "You missed four calls, apparently she's missing your daily letters."

Reid picked up the phone and dialed the number. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, but Garcia was right..just hearing the voice of someone who genuinely cared without a guilt trip to nurse would be refreshing.


	11. Chapter 11

Derek Morgan knew immediately that something was wrong. Baby Girl and J.J. would not be waiting outside Reid's hospital room if everything was A-okay, nor would they have tear-streaked faces.

"Derek!" - and Baby Girl would not be using a first name basis and crying in his arms for nothing, either.

"Penelope, what happened? Is Reid -"

"Reid's okay." J.J. explained, as Garcia hugged Morgan, trembling in his arms. She knew that Reid wasn't himself at the moment, but he was always the rational one. Him blaming her had hurt her more than she cared to admit. "He apparently has a bit of a temper when he's in pain. He said some things, they weren't false, but they were hurtful."

J.J. quickly recapped the conversation. Morgan listened growing angrier by the minute. Suddenly shooting Hankel wasn't enough. He wanted to beat that bastard's head in- and then Reid's. Nobody talked to his Baby Girl that way, pain or no pain.

"Listen, Baby Girl, I'll talk to Reid. I need you to look up Elle's number. I'm hoping she might be able to give us some advice on how to help Reid. I tried to call her, but the number is disconnected."

"Okay, okay, I can do that."

Morgan walked in the room to see Reid lying in bed-the look on his face that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. Morgan picked up a sports magazine and sat down, he could wait.

"I'm okay," Reid assured the caller. "No really, I was hurt on the case last night but I'm better now. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm sorry I didn't return your calls sooner. Okay, bye."

"Who was that?" Morgan asked as Reid hung up the phone.

"My mom's doctor. She had nightmares that I was in trouble, they had to give her a sedative. Her doctor has been trying to call me ever since... Anyway, I had to let her know that I'm fine. He's going to have her call me as soon as she wakes up."

"You're not fine," Morgan corrected.

"I AM! And besides," he continued before Morgan could cut him off, "if I tell her the whole truth it might trigger an episode."

Morgan couldn't imaging what it must be like to be concerned about your mother's mental state enough that you could never tell her the full truth. Reid needed his mom more than ever, but it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon -at least not in the traditional sense.

"Reid, look, I know you're upset, but blaming Garcia. That's out of line, man. You need to apologize to her. Not right now," he added at the look of outrage on Reid's face. "I know you're head isn't screwed on right now..."

"My head is FINE!"

"Reid -"

"SHE ASKED FOR IT!"

"Garcia wouldn't-"

"Not her, J.J. She wanted to know, so I told her. You can't be mad at me for honestly answering a question."

Morgan was about to object that Reid could have been nicer about it, but stopped himself. Hadn't he just admitted that Reid's head wasn't screwed on properly? "So, J.J. should have been careful what she wished for?"

"I told her nothing good would come of it."

"Reid, we've all had a rough few days..."

"Rough?" Reid's jaw dropped in outrage. "You've had a few ROUGH days? What do you think I've been on a picnic or something?"

"That's not what I-"

"Do you have any idea what I've...?"

"We saw the videos." He knew that was a sore subject. Not only had they seen Reid at his most vulnerable, but that was also why Reid felt the team had let him down.

"That was 20 minutes out of three days, you have no idea -"

"No, Reid, I don't." Truth be told, the team had been going out of the way to NOT think about what Reid was going through. It had been necessary to keep their focus. "Tell me."

"You don't want to hear!"

"Yes, I do! I want to help!"

Reid laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. "If you want to help, then get me some more pain medicine!"

"Reid, if the pain is back all you have to do ask for more morphine and you'll get it."

Reid shook his head, almost laughing at the genuine confusion in Morgan's voice. If only it was that easy. "You don't get it, just leave me alone!" He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Reid turned around to face the curtain that separated him from Hotch. He knew his unit chief was eavesdropping. Damn bastard. He had Morgan to his right and Hotch to his left. He was trapped. He waited for the sound of Morgan walking to the door and closing it behind him, but he heard nothing of the kind. Instead he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

Reid rested his head on his folded arms, blinking back the tears that would not stop.

Neither of them said a word.

Morgan kept his hand on Reid' shoulder for several minutes. The silence hung between them, Reid laying so still that Morgan thought - more like hoped- that he might even have fallen asleep.

Morgan ran his hands through Reid's hair, neck, upper back - he made sure to stay away from the bandages. He wanted Reid to know that he wasn't alone without being pushy or demanding. That wasn't what he needed right now. He needed understanding and compassion more than anything.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, after the awkward silence became too much. He massaged Reid's shoulder blade, working out the muscle knots. Reid's skin was..freezing and drenched in sweat - a rather contradictory combination that raised questions Morgan wasn't sure he wanted answered.

"For what?" Reid's whisper almost went unheard. The massage felt comforting and relaxing...and painful all at once. It was the strangest combination he'd ever felt. "You didn't do anything wrong." Morgan hadn't been there, he wasn't the techie. He had been off somewhere else, doing his job, blissfully unaware of the danger until it was too late.

"For this. I know you weren't there, but all we wanted was to find you, man. That was the only thing on our minds for those three days. The only reason we didn't find any bread crumbs to follow is because there were none."

"So then how did you find me?" No one had talked to him about that night, as if they were waking up from a nightmare. But for Reid, who was always 10 steps ahead of the competition, that gaping hole of information was driving him crazy...and it was a nightmare he was still stuck in.

"Hankel finally made a mistake. He didn't take a long time to upload the murder video. We had the victim's address, we knew he had to be within a 17 mile radius. We had your graveyard clue. We saw Marshall Parish on the map. Emily had found a journal entry about 'Marshall'. Until then we thought it was a person not a place. But when we realized there was a cemetery there, we knew where we had to go. We didn't waste any time."

"Who was watching when..."

"Garcia saw it happen after we left. She called the paramedics. They were there the whole time. We had them stay by the road, no point in getting the medical help caught in the cross-fire."

"And what exactly was 'it'?" Reid turned back to look at Morgan. "No one will tell me..."

"No one wants to tell you, because no one wants to think about how close we came to losing you last night. Without Charles' mistake, we'd be watching your murder video right now."

"But my Bible clue..."

"Without that geographic profile we would have been going to dozens of graveyards. That one was listed first as a plantation - the graveyard was secondary. It would have been our last stop, not the first. Kid, trust me, you don't want to know."

"Don't tell me what I want, Morgan! Concussion or not, my brain is still functioning. I have to know."

"Knock, knock," a familiar voice cut off Reid's rant, but it wasn't one they were expecting. It was Detective Farraday. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Reid tried to give the man a smile in return, but he knew it fell short.

"I want to thank you folks for coming out to help us. It was a -" He held his hand out to shake Reid's hand, dropping it when Reid made no attempt to take it.

"...pleasure?" Reid finished. "It wasn't."

"Right, it wasn't. Not at all. I'm just glad I'm not waking up to another video. But it is a pleasure to see you doing so well."

"Detective is there anything we can get for you? Dr. Reid isn't exactly in an entertaining sort of mood."

"Yeah, sorry, I just came by for the um, for the knife."

"Knife? What knife?"

"I'll get it."

"Morgan, what's he talking about?"

Morgan didn't answer. He disappeared behind Hotch's curtain and came back with an emesis basin and in it was a knife in a blue autoclave bag. It was covered in blood. Why hadn't the nurses cleaned it?

"What knife?"

"Well we need forensic evidence to officially close the case so if we can get DNA off of Hankel's knife-"

"Why is - what is Hankel's knife doing here?"

"He doesn't know? How can he NOT know?!"

"Know what?"

Reid didn't miss the way Morgan was shaking his head at the detective, but the detective - his wide eyes fixed on Reid in disbelief- didn't notice. "This is the knife he used to stab you."

"Thhaat," Reid stuttered, "was in my back?" It was a good thing he was already lying down in bed otherwise he would have fainted. He looked frantically from detective to agent, waiting for one of them to correct him, but no one did. So that's why breathing had suddenly become impossible last night. "That's why you kept telling me not to move." It all made sense, everyone's panic, every time he had tried to roll onto his back to go to sleep. How Emily had held him against the hospital bed...

"Reid, breathe. That's it, slowly. In and out. You're okay now. You're safe." Morgan sat on the edge of the bed, both of his hands on Reid's shoulders, his eyes flickering between his friend and the monitors.

Reid looked at the knife that had been set next to the bedside phone. It was still covered in blood. His blood. That thing had to be at least six inches long. He reached behind his back so he could feel the stitches beneath the gauze..no, they weren't stitches. They were too large and rigid. Staples...there were...He paused for a moment, feeling suddenly nauseous...19. 19 staples. Morgan took the pillow away and laid his head on the bed and propped his feet up on the pillows. "Just breathe for me, okay."

Reid did as he was told, his eyes on the ceiling and away from the stuttering detective.

 _Too easy, I ought to give you time to think about what you've done._ The knife had been right there. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt the blade beneath his chin.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Reid! Reid!"

He felt something closing around his face.

"Breathe for me, pretty boy. Breathe. Deep breaths."

 _That horrible sharp pain that suddenly engulfed all of his senses..._

"Reid?"

"Reid!"

"I need some help in here!"

Garcia scanned the gift room shelves looking for something that did not scream 5-year-old boy. "That would be great, Elle. Reid could really use the company. We'll see you in a few hours. Bye."

"Paging Dr. Wilson to room 219. Code Blue. Dr. Wilson to 219. Code Blue," an announcer voice sounded from overhead.

219? That was Reid's and Hotch's room, and given Hotch's minor injury... "J.J.!" She put down the stack of crossword puzzle books and ran out the door, J.J. on her heels.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the hall. She ran into Reid's open door... Morgan was there, standing behind the curtain, his head in his hands. Hotch's voice impossible to miss from the other side of the curtain. He was pleading with Reid. In fact he almost sounded like he was...crying.

"SPENCE!"

Morgan grabbed J.J. around the waist, pulling her close as she struggled to disentangle herself from him. "Don't! We need to stay back!"

"Clear! All clear! Agent Hotchner! Let go of the rail!"

A horrible beeping noise filled the still air.

"Noo, no please!"

"Clear!"

Aaron Hotcher took in his agent's pale face, unable to believe that this was happening, not now. The danger was supposed to be over. "Reid, we can't lose you now, you've fought way too hard to quit now."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, bring up Reid's emergency contact.

"This is Agent Hotcher, Dr. Reid's emergency contact. I need to speak with his mother, Diana."

"Agent Hotchner all calls are routed through Dr..."

"EMERGENCY! Get me Diana Reid now! Her son...he's, he's dying."

"Clear!"

"Spencer?" Diana Reid's frantic voice filled the room. "Baby?"

No pain, no imaginary freezers trapping him. Just pure blissful, warm light like a hot summer's day...God, it was good to be back. Last time, he had been more than a little disappointed to wake up to Rafael's voice...from peaceful bliss to pain like he'd never imagined. No, thank you. He was here to stay.

He kept walking and walking, to where he had no idea. He'd find...something, eventually. He had all the time in the world.

"Mr. Reid?" a small voice called out somewhere up ahead... a small voice that sounded very familiar. A voice that still haunted his nightmares.

"Don't you remember me, Mr. Reid?"

Of course he remembered her. How could he ever forget her? "Mandy."

The little girl - only four years old -stepped out of the light, wearing a white robe - her golden curls looking so pretty when they weren't marred with blood. Amanda Sterling - one of the first cases he had worked with Hotch. She ran into his arms, the Reid Effect all but forgotten in this wonderful place.

"I'm sorry," he cried as he held her close. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

"But you saved Nate," she reminded him, her head buried in his shoulder. Yes. Yes, he had saved Nathaniel - her two year old brother.

"There are more kids like Nate who need your help, Mr. Reid. You have to go back and help them."

Go back? But he wanted to stay here. Here where children were safe and happy...not screaming and dying. He held her tighter

"Spencer." He felt Mandy's head turn on his shoulder.

"Who's that?"

He turned to see a man, not much older than himself. He was tall and thin, black hair and a pencil thin mustache, but it was his eyes that caught his attention. They were so much like..."Uncle Daniel?"

"I always knew you'd be taller than me," the young man smiled. He reached out to give his nephew a hug. He could have stayed here forever. It was so peaceful.

"SPENCER! BABY!" a screamed echoed all around them.

It sounded like..."Mom?"

Had something happened to his mother? Was she here too? The chances of that were...

"NOO!" her screaming voice sending chills down his spine.

"No! No. Baby, please. Spencer!"

"She needs you, Spencer. The other children need you."

"But I want to stay here!"

"I'm sorry." Daniel let go of his nephew, taking Mandy with him.

"Clear!"

Dr. Wilson put down the paddles and looked at his watch. 1:52 pm. 7 minutes since he'd been paged. He should call it. One more, just one more. He only hoped his idea worked.

He charged the paddles again. "Clear!"

"Clear!" and again. And again.

Hotch watched as Reid's body continued to flop under the pressure of the defibrillator - the ice bag falling to the side again. Hotch readjusted it between shocks, trying to block out Diana Reid's hysterical sobbing as he did so. The doctor had told the nurses to pack his head with ice after the first few shock attempts had failed.

"Clear!"

That damned line kept up its monotone beep.

"Clear!"

Then it was gone. The rhythmic sound of the heart monitor was back.

Hotch turned towards the machine, not daring to believe that his eyes and ears were agreeing with each other.

The doctor heaved a huge sigh of relief as he put down the paddles. "Sinus rhythm. We've got him."

"He's alive," Hotch told Diana. "He made it." He turned off the speaker so only he could hear Diana's sobbing take on a tone of relief instead of hysteria. "Keep talking to him." He put the phone between Reid's ear and the ice-pack.

The doctor picked up the chart at the end of the bed and wrote down his orders. "ICU. Now - and do not move that ice!"

"Yes, Doctor."

"And get Agent Hotchner his discharge papers."

"Yes. Doctor."

Dr. Lawrence Wilson collapsed in the chair, turning to the team. "Do not touch the ice!" At the team's predictable looks of confusion, he explained. "We've been giving him ice therapy all day to reduce inflammation and to dull the pain, rather than risk further epidural complications. That's what saved his life."

"How can ice-?"

"His core body temperature was lower than normal, meaning his body - more specifically, his brain - requires less blood flow to function. So when his heart stopped, it wasn't quite as much of a shock to his system. Stop the heart at room temperate and full capacity and the brain will die without blood after five minutes. But in this case, the cold bought him time - precious time. It's a double edge sword. Too much cold can kill, but the right amount can protect the brain from permanent damage. It's like," he searched for a realistic explanation, "your kitchen freezer. The cold of the freezer keeps the food from rotting, but it needs to be packaged properly otherwise the frost will kill it. But when you open up the package and reheat the food, it's still delicious and nutritious."

"Did you just compare my genius to a piece of meat!?"

"What I'm describing is called Medically Induced Hypothermia and presents the best possible survival outcomes post cardiac arrest."

"How long does the ice pack need to stay on?" Hotch asked, shushing Garcia, and motioning for her to sit, before she fainted.

"Its not just the ice pack. Since he never lost consciousness last night, we kept to a strict regimen of off and on gel packs and ice blankets. But we're taking that to the next step. We're going to wrap his chest and and legs in ice blankets and keep them on for 24 hours, cooling his body down to 92 degrees. After that time, we'll slowly increase the temperature. He won't wake up for at least 36 hours and that's being optimistic."

"Thank you, doctor."

"You want to thank me, don't give him another memory induced heart attack." He inclined his head toward the knife, still sitting on the end table. "Some patients have short term memory loss. He might be lucky enough to not even remember any of this."

"What the hell happened?" Hotch demanded once the doctor had left. "I get to sleep for half an hour and you give him a heart attack?"

*PLEASE REFER TO SEASON 7 EPISODE 6 "EPILOGUE" FOR THE INSPIRATION OF THIS CHAPTER...AND NO I DID NOT LEARN ABOUT MEDICALLY INDUCED HYPOTHERMIA THROUGH CRIMINAL MINDS, ABOUT 10 YEARS AGO I SAW A DISCOVERY HEALTH DOCUMENTARY TITLED "DYING TO LIVE" ABOUT SOMEONE GETTING TRAPPED IN ICE AND BEING RESCUED HOURS LATER, IT'S FASCINATING. I found another documentary about the same patient and posted the link to my profile along with several links with information about medically induced hypothermia.


	12. Chapter 12

Emily Prentiss was a quick learner and one of the many things she had learned in law enforcement was that pissed off doctors did not happen easily. They possessed a patience to rival Aaron Hotchner's - at least when it came to the family of patients, but this doctor was PISSED!

Dr. Lawrence Wilson met the gaze of each team member, all 6 of them crowded in his small office.

"How does this happen, Doctor?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence. "When Garcia called me, she said Reid was fine - he was playing a game. How -?" She still couldn't believe that Reid was in a coma - medically induced or not. She wasn't even sure which it was.

"When I checked Dr. Reid's vitals an hour before the event, he was medicated with his pulse at 130."

"What does that mean?" Garcia spoke up from the door. "I don't -"

"A normal reading would be 60-100. What this means, is that while he was lying in bed, his heart was racing as if he was at the gym. Now that number is not dangerous, you can go to the gym, have a 130 pulse and have no need to fear. But this was without external stimulation. His breathing was difficult and shallow, hence the need for the breath mask on the bed rail. His vitals were undesirable, but STABLE!"

"Why was it so high?"

"The drugs," Hotch answered.

"That can't be right, Hotch!"

"It is!" Dr. Wilson spoke up. "Agent Hotchner is right."

"No, it. It can't be. Look, man, I was a beat cop in Chicago, I've seen what Dilaudid can do. It lasts six hours max, it had been 14 since we found him...there's no way."

"Well, then, _man_ ," the pissed off doctor retorted "- you must be are aware that most addicts -"

"Reid's not - ."

"-start with taking a drug in pill form." The doctor chose to ignore the interruption. "As they get desperate, they look for a quicker high - they go for the injections. The kidnapper - Hankel, you said it was? - he gave Dr. Reid an addict's dose via injection and based on the numbers in his tox screen, we estimate he was drugged with a high dose each day of his abduction. If he only had one small dose of the drug, you'd be right, but you're not. This to a man who had a perfect chem panel a month ago, suggesting - as you stated - that he had not used drugs prior to this week. Just help me understand something. What happened before I was paged?"

"We were just playing a game," Garcia answered, when it was obvious that J.J. could hardly say a coherent word between her tears. "Monopoly. He was even telling us how many communist countries had banned it. He was just in full Ried lecture mode." It had been so refreshing and comforting to know that he would be...but he wasn't fine was he? "Then J.J. started asking him about -"

"I just wanted to help! I needed to know so I could help him!"

Emily couldn't decide if Dr. Wilson's face looked homicidal or compassionate. His facial muscles were in a war all of their own. "You wanted to help him?" the man asked slowly. "So you thought that forcing him to relieve his worst nightmares would help him how? How could you be so selfish?"

J.J. looked like she'd been slapped in the face. "I was trying to help! I wasn't being selfish."

"Did he want your help?"

"No," Garcia answered for her. "He just wanted her to give him the dice so he could keep playing."

"Did either of you notice anything unusual when you were playing the game?"

J.J. nodded. "When I hugged him, I noticed he was sweating despite the cold from where the ice had been. A couple of times I handed him the dice and he dropped them instead of rolling them. It was like he couldn't hold them properly..."

"You mean he was sweating and his hands were shaking from the drugs."

"I thought it was hunger and dehydration. We gave him tea and snacks. He held the cup with both hands. He never does that, he likes to keep a hand free. I just thought he wanted to warm up."

"Did the tea have caffeine in it?" Please say 'no', please say 'no'!

"No, it was chamomile."

Oh good. At least they hadn't been stupid enough to give him coffee, even decaf still had more caffeine than his patient could handle at the moment - and he had made sure to tell Dr. Reid as much at breakfast time. "So instead of letting sleeping dogs lie, you keep pressing him for information he didn't want to think about, when the signs of drug withdrawal were staring you in the face? And here I thought FBI agents knew how to handle trauma victims!"

"But he's..."

"An agent, yes he is. But he stopped being that the moment that Hankel guy got to him. Look your job puts you in the line of fire all the time, but most law enforcement injuries are bullets. Painful and potentialy lethal yes, but nothing compared to the days of torture endured by most victims. You're still seeing him as an agent first and a victim second, you need to switch your brains around and treat him like you would any other victim. So, he's getting upset and didn't want to talk, then what happened?"

"I dismissed them."

"One point to Agent Hotchner. Good call. So, you girls weren't in the room when it happened?"

"No we had gone to the cafeteria and gift shop, we ran back when we heard the page."

"So who was with him?"

"I had gone back to sleep when he decided to call his mom."

Morgan raised his hand. "I was."

Dr. Wilson nodded at him. "Go on."

"He was leaving her a message when I walked in. Baby Girl...Garcia," he corrected seeing the doctor's look of confusion, "she was crying. Reid had made her upset...and no one makes my Baby Girl cry."

"Okay, I don't know what kind of team you guys have here, but what do her tears have to do with this?"

"I told Reid when he hung up the phone that talking to her that way was unacceptable."

"Let me get this straight. After Agent Hotchner dismisses the ladies, you walk in and pick up the same conversation he had put an end to?"

Morgan nodded. "Yes."

"And what did Dr. Reid have to say to that?"

"He told me to leave him alone."

Dr. Wilson was no longer making even the slightest attempt at hiding his annoyance, more like anger at this team of the finest idiots the FBI had to offer. "So no one is taking the hint that he doesn't want to talk about it?" Why hadn't his patient called the nurses to remove the unwanted guests? Why?

"I did take a hint!" Morgan defended himself. "He didn't want to talk, I dropped the subject."

"Then why did the detective tell me that the two of you were arguing when he came in the room?"

"Reid brought up the topic again..."

"I highly doubt that."

"He didn't want to talk about his memories. You see, he's a genius - like a certifiable one. He's got a photographic - no, Eidetic, memory. He remembers everything, but he couldn't remember anything. It was driving him crazy. He wanted to know how we found him, what we were doing last night. He..." Morgan rubbed his face. "Oh God!" It was all making sense now. "He hadn't seen the injury, he didn't know what it was. He was probably trying to get me to tell him so he could hear a truth that was less traumatizing than whatever his imagination was telling him."

"He was thinking that the fact couldn't be as crazy as the fiction in his head."

"Probably. He kept pressing the issue. I told him he didn't want to know...he got angry, told me not to tell him what he wanted. He said he was fine, he wanted answers. So when the detective came in, Reid asked for, and got, his answers."

Dr. Wilson put his head in his hands. "Answers that he couldn't handle." He flipped through the chart and noted the timing of the medicine. He'd been due for another dose, no wonder. He could only imagine his patient's terror as his panic attack caused his pulse to skyrocket and with the medicine worn off, it must have felt like his heart was about jump out of his rib cage. By then it had been too late for the second dose to work in time. He had been scared to death - literally. He checked the times again, he had scheduled the nurses to return in half an hour. Half an hour longer and he may have been fine, panic attack or not. "Okay, from now on, Dr. Reid can not handle any stress. ZERO stress! He needs three things: calm, happy thoughts, and comfort. If you can't give him that, then get out of the ICU. Understood?"

"Understood," seven voices echoed around him.

"It is VITAL that his temperature stay between 90 and 92 degrees. You can hold his hand, that's fine, but don't hold anything hot. If you need your caffeine, iced coffee or soda will have to suffice. The machines will regulate his temperature, but the less fluctuation the better. Talk to him, coma patients can often hear what's going on around them even if they can't respond to it. Yes, Agent Garcia, you have a question?"

Garcia didn't even bother correcting him as a horrible thought had filled her head. She had to get it out. "Sir, if he can feel our hands, does that mean...is he in pain?" This whole time she had been imagining him getting the sleep he so desperately needed.

"We don't know," the doctor answered, his tone compassionate for the first time. "Holding his hand, gentle touches, it can't hurt and might help. If he can feel the pain, then the knowing that someone is by his side, should give him some solace and peace. He needs that right now. We've restarted the epidural, but the pain has spread now. Due to the extensive CPR his chest will be hurting as well as his back, but the epidural was placed based on the original injury."

"Can he get two of them?"

The doctor shook his head. "Any higher up on the spinal cord and it would affect his breathing, its too dangerous. The drugs are still in his system, the same pain management protocols apply. We really can't afford a seizure on top of all of this. I'll be honest, most doctors wouldn't have done this given the drugs in his system."

"Why not?"

"Because most drug addicts have such extensive heart damage from abuse that they wouldn't be able to tolerate it. Based on the records I got from his primary doctor this morning, I'm taking a gamble on the assumption that he has no prior drug abuse history and therefore none of the usual damage. The hypothermia can also cause platelet dysfunction which the drugs were already doing, but he's had two bags of transfusion since admission so that should offset some of the risk. The head injury could also be an exclusion criteria to some doctors, except that it wasn't severe enough to contribute to the cause of the cardiac arrest. This is a gamble, I'll need Agent Hotchner's consent to continue the therapy."

"You'll get it. So what's the goal here, what can we expect?"

"Well there is some good news. Less than 10% of heart attack victims even survive, less than half of those survive with comparable brain function."

"This is good, how?"

"The hypothermia treatment increases the survival rate to 50% and of those many of them retain vital brain function."

"So if this is a gamble, then his odds went from 5% to -?"

"- greater than 70%. Most patients are found at home and brought here later, there's often a few hours delay in starting the ice therapy. His body was cooled prior to that, we started the treatment right away and got his temp down to 92 within 2 hours. Usually it takes 3-4 hours to cool the patient."

"So Reid got the treatment in less than half the normal time frame?"

"Yes, timing is everything. The major problem will be that he was without a pulse for six minutes and 15 seconds. On a room temp patient, we would call time of death after 5 minutes."

"But you kept going. Thank you!" Garcia, scurried up to the young doctor, grabbing him in a bear hug. "Thank you, thank you! You got his odds up from 5 to 70! Thank you!" She'd have to write those numbers down for Reid, he loved numbers. "Can we see him now?"

"Yes. I'll have the nurses take you to see him. Like I said, if you can't handle this...leave. If my nurses even THINK you are upsetting my patient, they won't hesitate to remove you from the ICU, am I clear?"

A room full of nods was all he needed.

"Uh-huh, hold up! Nurse!" Dr. Wilson interrupted as the group filed down the hall to the ICU. "Two at a time for now, you two -" he pointed to Prentiss and Gideon - "did not upset my patient, you may see him first. And remember I don't care how many titles or badges you have, upset him in the slightest if you want security to kick your asses to the curb. You three -" he rounded on Garcia, Morgan and J.J. - "will get kicked to the curb for setting foot in the ICU without my consent. You got that, Nurse Davis?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Good, now please take these two agents here to see Spencer Reid. Agent Hotchner, a word."

Sparing a warning glance to the fuming Derek Morgan, Hotch followed Dr. Wilson back to the office. The door shut behind them, Dr. Wilson sat down at his desk with his head in his hands as he stared wide-eyed at the open chart in front of him. "Okay, I gave your agents my highest hopes, but you need to know everything. Despite the prior cooling and quick response time, the fact of the matter is this could end very badly. I'm actually being rather careful and conservative with this treatment. I've chosen the cooling blanket and ice packet approach due to the damage the drugs have done to his platelets. The more aggressive treatment would include inserting catheters into his groin via the femoral veins, which would deliver the cold saline directly to his vascular system but with all of the additional trauma he's endured recently, less invasive is safest, less chance of a bleeding risk during the warming process. My main concern right now is infection from the knife wound. He absolutely can not handle a fever right now. He could end up paralyzed, in a vegetative state, anything can still happen - statistics aren't promises."

"I'm aware of that." Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat.

"With Dr. Reid unresponsive, I'm going to need to notify next of kin."

"You have his mother's number -"

"Yeah, about that." He pulled something out of his lab coat pocket. "Your phone and water didn't mix very well." He handed back the drenched and ruined cell phone. "I'm going to need that number again. Dr. Cheng was turning to you for consent last night out of emergency and I will continue to do the same for the time being, but I'm going to need family who can make decisions -"

"In that case, Doctor, you should know that his mother is institutionalized."

"What?" Oh this couldn't be good.

"Her son is her Power of Attorney. So.."

"She can't make her own medical choices, much less his," the doctor finished with a sigh, tapping his pen on the file. "Well then I'll talk to his father," the doctor decided, wondering as he said it, why the woman's son had Power of Attorney and not her husband.

"That might be a problem."

"Problem?" How many problems could one patient have? "In what way?"

"When Dr. Reid thought his family might be on a hit list a few months ago, he had his mother brought into protective custody, but not his dad. I've never heard him mention his dad once in three years. I have no idea if the man's even alive, and he's an only child," Hotch added before the doctor could ask the question.

"Well you're the FBI, find him! I need someone who can take Power of Attorney, in case-" he didn't want to think about it, but he had to. "Do you know if he has an Advance Directive on file with the Bureau?"

"Yes, he does."

"I'll need to see it."

"Of course."

"And get me any other family you can find. If his father is deceased, I'll still need a next of kin. You also need to know that in this protocol, the patient is kept at the cooling temperature for 24 hours, then we start the very slow warming process which can take several hours. If there is a DNR on file in the Directive, it would not be acknowledged until after the patient has been warmed for 72 hours. That is usually enough time for the patient to wake up and to get an accurate neurological assessment. If that doesn't happen - well let's hope it doesn't come to that. But we do need to prepare for it."

"Agreed."

Well there's your medical information overload. If you want more information on medical hypothermia, I got the name wrong. Its technically called Mild Therapeutic Hypothermia and you can begin by looking at the sites I linked on my profile page. One link would not save to my profile page, so I'm adding it here

resuscitationcentral dot com / hypothermia/ post-resusitation-overview/


	13. Chapter 13

Once again, the last chapter was extended, this time to include additional medical info and a legal discussion between Hotch and Dr. Wilson.

* _Will there be sunshine shinin'?_

 _Will we find a silver linin'?_

 _Come along. Sing a song._

 _When today becomes tomorrow._

 _Will we find joy or sorrow? Sing a song_ * Tomorrow is another day, 1977 Disney's Rescuers

Jason Gideon followed the nurse and Emily Prentiss down what seemed like an impossibly long corridor. He walked calmly, his head held high, despite the stinging sensation behind his eyes. Why couldn't someone wake him up? This had to be a nightmare. The relief he had been feeling since arriving at the hospital the night before had evaporated as if it had never been.

"Here he is," the nurse announced, gesturing to chairs on either side of a bed. Gideon took one, his eyes on his feet.

"Oh God!" Prentiss' chocked whisper brought him out of his trance-like state. He looked up at her, the usually stoic woman had her hand over her mouth and tear tracks down her face. "Spencer."

He followed her eyes, his heart dropping into his stomach. Reid was covered from neck to feet in what looked like an ice blanket, cords were poking out from every angle. He was was hooked up to a ventilator and even his head was covered in electrodes.

Gideon stared at Reid's too still form, only half-listening as the young nurse explained the technology behind the cooling blankets and the various machines to which he was connected.

"Are there any questions that you have? Anything I can get for you?"

Were there any questions? Only about 2,000 but both Gideon and Prentiss found themselves shaking their heads, unable to find the words necessary to ask. It was like their tongues had been tied.

"Okay, well my name is Leslie and if you think of anything, just call me."

Gideon nodded, his eyes never leaving Reid. Honestly without the nurse to guide him, he would have walked right past the bed. What had Dr. Wilson said? Oh right - talking and gentle touches. Gideon reached out, stroking Reid's chilled cheek - the only part of him that wasn't covered in something he was too afraid to move. "Hey, kiddo, it's Gideon." No response, not even a twitch or a blink. What did you say to someone in a coma? "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry for everything," he choked. _Happy thoughts, Gideon. The doctor said happy thoughts. What happy thoughts ?_ He hadn't felt this guilty since Boston. If only he hadn't listened to Garcia's virus warning suggestion -. _That wasn't your fault!_ Gideon scolded himself, Hankel was already drugging him. It didn't matter that the first cardiac incident happened moments after the warning was posted. Still, Reid hitting the floor when he probably already had a concussion certainly hadn't helped the situation. _You idiot!_ he scolded himself. Wasn't the number one rule of a hostage situation to try not to antagonize the hostage taker? He should have seen that coming from a mile away.

"What are you sorry for, Gideon?" Prentiss whispered.

"I thought I could use his brain to make the world a safer place." He remembered marveling at the speed of Reid's brain as he recited an article about one of the of BAU's cases the first time they met. If only he could have that brain, then they could catch the unsubs sooner, save more lives. Spencer's brain had been little more than a tool to him at the time - a rare and precious tool that was in danger of permanent damage because of him.

"You did, Gideon."

"I also thought I could protect him." Gideon sighed, drumming his hands on the side of the chair. "I was wrong. You put him on a pedestal, show him off like the prize horse at the fair. The youngest, the fastest. All eyes are on him, on someone who should by all rights still be in school, not being pushed to excel in a job for which he does not have the qualifications."

"Reid IS -"

Gideon shook his head. "He is now, but he wasn't. The Bureau made an exception to get him in. He was too young to be an agent, but letting him into one of the most coveted units right out of training? You know they had to waive the fitness tests for him? I got those waived. He's felt like the underling from the beginning - always eager to prove himself among jealous colleagues who were bigger than him - grown up school yard bullies. That's why he chased Hankel into the cornfield, I'm sure of it. He wanted to show he could be just as strong as the rest of the agents. If Reid feels like he failed, that he is somehow weak or less than the rest of us, its because I pushed him too hard too fast - like putting a colt into the Kentucky Derby. You'd be amazed when he won the first race, even the second. But then there's that expectation, so when the colt collapses, suddenly he thinks he's weak and why? Because the trainers have drilled that expectation into his little head and anything less than amazing is suddenly unacceptable. That's what I'v done to him." Gideon put his head in his hands. "I set the bar so high he was bound to come crashing down - and this is what it got him."

"Gideon, enough!" Prentiss looked angry, whether at his self-loathing or the situation he couldn't be sure - maybe it was both. "You're not helping."

Happy thoughts, right. Happy. "Hey, Spencer, you know that book you were reading the other day? One of David Rossi's? Well, I worked with him in the BAU, back in the eighties...you would have been about...oh dear, you weren't even born yet," God, he suddenly felt old. "He and I had just finished a case in New York and we were snowed in at the airport..."*

Emily put her hand on the small part of Reid's shoulder that wasn't covered by the cooling blanket, and listened to Gideon recalling how his friend got chickened into a sledding dare from a 12-year-old, laughing despite herself.

* * *

Derek Morgan sat in the ICU waiting room, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. How had he not seen that Reid was detoxing? Post op detox from one of the strongest opiates had to be in a special level of Hell that he wouldn't wish on anyone - well, except unsubs. Unsubs deserved Hell.

"Don't beat yourself up too much. Hotch didn't tell you about the drugs because Reid told him not to. Patient confidentiality." Morgan looked up to see Prentiss sit down next to him. Gideon walked right past, not looking at anyone.

"That's no excuse, I found the drugs at the crime scene. I _should_ have known."

"You couldn't have known it would be that bad."

"To go from squeaky clean to an addicts dose of one of the strongest opiates?" He whistled, trying to wrap his brain around that kind of Hell. "No wonder he was being such a jerk."

"Alright, that's enough!" Prentiss snapped, rubbing her hands on her pant leg, trying warm up her hand with the friction. "If you want to wallow fine! Wallow, but it won't help Reid. But if you want to help him, then do yourself a favor and pull your head out of your ass!"

"Excuse me?" Where had the mild-mannered agent gone? Even when she was annoyed she had a way of toeing the professional line.

"Ignorance can be excused, but really, Morgan? You're so wound up in your own imagined guilt that you're not even asking about him?"

Well when she put it that way. She was right, he did sound insensitive. But for goodness sake, he was in a coma, he was in bad shape. What more was there to it? He hadn't asked because he thought it was too soon for answers.

"Is he okay? If he's okay, then why are you crying? Of course he's not okay, what a stupid question." Garcia sat down with her hot chocolate.

"What are you doing with hot chocolate?" Hadn't Garcia been listening at all?

"It's cold out there, I had to go get Hotch a new phone."

"You're cold?" she laughed at the irony, rubbing her pant leg even harder, remembering the chill radiating off of Reid. "Give me that!"

"Hey!" Garcia protested as Emily took the mug from her.

She held the mug with both hands, enjoying the blessed relief as feeling crept slowly back into her hands. "You heard what the doctor said, no hot drinks if you want to see Reid."

"He won't let me," Garcia pouted. "I told him that I need to, but..."

"Not you, too! Garcia, your concerns aren't on his radar." Were she and Hotch the only ones who understood that Reid's needs were the ones that mattered right now?

"But I didn't make Reid upset. I told J.J. to leave him alone, I would never say something hurt him."

"He said Reid needs calm, comfort and happy thoughts." Had she been the only one listening? "You are not calm, if you calm down and tell him that, I'm sure Dr. Wilson will change his mind."

Hotch watched half of his team argue like kindergarten kids, feeling like he'd aged a decade in day. Was it really only three hours ago that he had honestly thought that he could afford the luxury of sleep? He knew he needed some. He could almost hear Reid's voice lecturing him about the dangers of sleep deprivation. How was he supposed to make the best choices for Reid when he felt like his brain had been unhinged?

"Hotch."

Hotch looked up to see that Gideon was handing him a ringing cell phone. "Strauss."

He took the small device in his hand, for once not answering it. "What do I tell her?" It was more rhetorical than anything, but he really had no idea. He'd had to make notification before, he'd had agents shot before, but these days of unanswered questions was new to him.

"Tell her the truth."

"She's going to want us to go back. I've asked Kevin Lynch to look up next of kin. What are we supposed to do when his family gets here? Leave?"

"Not happening, Hotch," Morgan added, two cold gel packs in hand. "We arrive as a team. We leave as a team."

"Gideon's right," Prentiss joined the conversation, taking one of Morgan's gel packs and giving it to Garcia. "Just tell Strauss the truth. Reid's too busy chilling to go home."

*Taken from Season 10, Nelson's sparrow episode. Please review. I love reviews, they make my day :) I'm also going back to each chapter and adding a quote (mostly from songs) like the show starts out.


	14. Chapter 14

_But you'll see every day_

 _That we'll never turn away_

 _When it seems all your dreams come undone_

 _We will stand by your side_

 _Filled with hope and filled with pride_

 _We are more than we are_

 _We are one_ \- We are One, Disney's the Lion King 2, Simba's Pride

Aaron Hotchner was a patient man - perhaps the most professional, patient and understanding man that Derek Morgan had ever had the pleasure of knowing, all of this rolled into a pain in the ass drill sergeant. So when Hotch got mad, it had to be serious and from the look on his face, his anger was barely staying in check. He put the phone down and looked like he was going to throw it, before collapsing into the cafeteria chair, picking at his sandwich. Apparently his hunger hadn't made him desperate enough for hospital food.

"Something wrong, Hotch? You know, other than the obvious?"

"Strauss wants us back in Virginia -"

"Back? Hotch, we can't leave him -"

"Well, she's not a total - it's a testament to her concern for him that she's allowing us to stay until his family arrives. He needs support, but it doesn't necessarily have to come from the team. I'll call her again later, try to talk some sense into her. Any word on his family?"

"Dr. Wilson said he got a hold of his mom's doctor, as well as an Ethel Armenta in Arizona."

"What about his father?"

"We're still trying to find him. Dr. Wilson tried to call him but was told he had the wrong number. The secretary who answered the phone said that she'd never heard her boss mention a son. I've got Garcia looking into it."

"Morgan, I don't want her having to do this. She's traumatized enough, that's why I called Kevin Lynch."

"Guys, I've got something." Garcia approached them, looking on the verge of tears. "Dr. Wilson got the right number. I know Reid was raised in Nevada. I looked up his birth certificate and there's only one William Reid with that date of birth who was living in Nevada in the 80s and 90s. He still lives there in fact, in Sumerlin, less than 10 miles from Reid's childhood home."

"That can't be right, how could he have a genius FBI agent son and not brag about him?" How could his father's colleagues not even know of his existence?

The look of fury on Hotch's face made Garcia want to run for the hills. "Give me William Reid's file."

Garcia gladly handed over the copies that Dr. Wilson had given her.

"Defense Attorney. Hmm..." He hated defense attorneys. He had to fight with them all the time to keep their unsubs behind bars. He'd always wanted to give them a piece of his mind. Now it looked like he would finally have an excuse.

Morgan watched Hotch flip through the file as well as the information Garcia had pulled up on her laptop. He picked up the phone, a grin forming on his face, not unlike the ones that unsubs got when they were looking for payback.

"My name is Agent Hotchner, I'm with the FBI's Atlanta Field Office in Georgia. I need to speak to William Reid regarding a client, a Jeffrey Collins."

After that call, he picked up the phone again. "Agent Franks, this is Agent Hotchner. No, he's not doing well at all. In fact we're having trouble getting his workaholic father over here. I told him that I was with your office and that one of his clients was hospitalized. He's got a long standing injury case with a Jeffery Collins who moved here from Nevada a few months ago. His name is William Reid and he will be coming by the office to see me, just send him over here, but don't tell him that its really about his son. Thanks, I will. Bye."

When Hotch put the phone down, Morgan's eyes were bugged out and his jaw dropped. "So, it's true, there really is a first time for everything."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You, Aaron Hotchner, just lied to a victim's family."

Something changed in Hotch's posture, it wasn't much but it was there. It was mostly in his eyes. It was the look of a man who had aged a year in a day. "What's that look for?"

"You just called him a victim."

"So I did, so I did." It was necessary, that didn't mean it wasn't painful. Talking about family notification made it easier to think in terms of victimology. "When we called for hotel rooms this morning, I actually booked one for him before remembering that he...you know, that he already has a bed reserved."

"Not that I don't appreciate the conversation, Morgan, but what do you need?"

"I'm looking for Gideon. He's not answering his cell, do you -?"

"He went back to the field office about an hour ago."

"The Field Office?" Of all the stupid, senseless...

"Because apparently paperwork can't wait but Reid can."

"Paperwork? Reid is fighting for his life in a coma and Gideon is worried about the paperwork?"

"So it would seem. I don't have the patience for him right now. Why? Why do you need to talk to him?"

"Because Dr. Wilson told me that Reid's Advance Directive just arrived on his desk - and Reid named him as medical proxy."

* * *

Garcia followed Emily down the row of ICU beds, taking in the condition of the various people around her, hooked up to more machines than she could count. Reid was here? Her enthusiasm for getting Dr. Wilson's permission to come back here was waning, maybe he'd been right to ban her. All around her patients were moaning in pain, some were even screaming and occasionally she could see the line up of machines through the curtains.

Emily finally stopped n front of a curtain that was indistinguishable from the rest. "You ready for this, Garcia?"

"Yes," her voice shaking.

"Okay." Emily pulled the curtain back, her eyes never leaving Garcia.

"Oh my God!" Her hands flew to her mouth, unable to stop the whimper and the tears. Her poor baby...

"Garcia, breathe, calm down. There you go," Emily led her to the chair that had been Gideon's.

"Calm, got it. I'm calm." Taking a deep breath, Garcia reached for his hand, only to find...nothing. His arms were tucked under the blanket. He had ice packs on either side of his neck and he had electrodes on his head, not to mention the ventilator.

"What's wrong with his head?" She wiped the tears away. "I thought his MRI was clean."

"Well he has a concussion but those electrodes are to monitor brain activity. They had to give him medicine to paralyze..."

"Paralyze?" Garcia's voice rose several notches, dropped her voice to a whisper at Emily's signal. "I thought they were trying to avoid paralysis...why?"

"The doctor is worried about paralysis due to spinal or brain injury. The medicine stops the muscular contractions that cause shivering which is the body's way of raising temperature and Reid can't afford that. Unfortunately, it can also mask seizures so they have to monitor his brain so they can treat a seizure if he gets one."

"So, its temporary?"

"Yes, the medicine will wear off."

Emily picked up the magazine that she had left on her chair and began reading aloud where she had left off.

Garcia couldn't listen to Emily, she also couldn't talk through the lump in her throat. She reached under the blanket to hold his hand...only it wasn't a normal blanket. It was freezing! She had thought he was cold last night. No wonder Emily was sticking to talking...this was painful. But it was what Reid needed. He could hear people all around him supposedly, but how was he to know they were here for _him_ without the contact? She didn't want him thinking that everyone else had visitors except for him. She kept a hand on the one part of his head that did not have electrodes "I'm here, Reid. Emily's here too. We miss you so much!" She blinked back the tears, caressing his cheek. "You're okay. You're safe."

Prentiss put down the political magazine, feeling a headache coming on. Reid would have found it fascinating, but it made her think of her mom...that wasn't going to help. "I need a break."

"A break, you think Reid is getting a break?"

"I've been sitting with him all day. I've probably read like half of the magazines in the waiting room to him. I've never felt like I'm doing so much and being so helpless at the same time. And my hands are going to turn into ice cubes pretty soon," she added, picking up her mug of coffee. Another five minutes, then she'd get another cold gel pack from the nurses...She'd never been so lazy and so exhausted.

"You're not helpless, Emily, you've done more to help him than anyone else on the team."

"Thanks."

"It's true, you even stayed with him during the epidural. I'm sure he appreciates it."

"I just wonder if its enough, I'm not sure if its actually helping. It feels like he's slipping away no matter how much I try to hold on. I'll be back, and remember, happy thoughts only."

* * *

Emily practically ran out of the ICU once the curtain was closed, stubbornly wiping at the tears that had been burning in her eyes all afternoon. She could compartmentalize better than most it was true. She had worked with various law enforcement agencies all around the world and she had lost countless friends, colleagues and family. Loss was not new to her, but this drawn out process of mounting questions and no answers - that was new. Normally she knew more or less what to expect within a few hours of an injury. Either the person died and she coped, or they lived and she rejoiced with them.

In fact more often than not, the death of a fellow law enforcement officer, even sometimes made her job easier. There were so many rotten cops being paid off that sometimes cases were closed with surprising swiftness after someone died. She hated to admit it, but it was true. But it was like Garcia had said - Reid was innocent. There was nothing to be gained with his death, no one had a target on his back. He was sweet and endearing, even when he was being a know-it-all. That was the thing with Reid - even when he was being a know it all, it wasn't to brag, it was to impart knowledge that he thought could be helpful. The problem was he didn't know when to stop. That was when the teasing and whispered rumors of a cyborg supercomputer began. She hadn't noticed it for a while, but whenever someone would make a computer joke, his face would fall slightly - like he'd been hurt. Of course he'd been hurt. All he wanted to do was help and all he got was ridicule. On more than one occasion, that person had been her.

She closed the stall door and sat down on the closed toilet lid, hugging herself as she cried.


	15. Chapter 15

I'm being extra generous...there have been three updates in the last day, so please don't skip the previous two chapters. I love it when I'm on a weekend role...and please don't forget to review them. I love reviews. :)

* * *

Emily Prentiss wasn't sure how long she had stayed there in the stall, hugging herself as her body was wracked with sobs that went on unabated. Why wouldn't the rest of the team step up to the plate? Hotch was supervising Reid's care, which was all well and good except that he hadn't been in to actually see him, Gideon was AWOL, and everyone else was too self-centered to realize that their 'baby' was at death's wide open door, which meant that it had been left to her to try to console him.

She had walked out of the ICU several times, convinced that the pain and heartache she was putting herself through wasn't helping him at all, that it was needless torture. But before long, she found herself going back each time as the thoughts of him lying in agonizing pain haunted her. How would it feel to be lying blind on a bed alone, trapped motionless in a body consumed with pain? Odds were that he was half dead and didn't feel anything. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing: the absence of pain would be good for him in the short term but not the long term. She wanted him to heal in the long term, but that felt like she was wishing torture on him. It was confusing enough to send her head in circles. Either way, those were odds that she couldn't risk. At least now she could safely leave him with Garcia, the most gentle soul of the group who had not made one move to upset him in the slightest.

With the sobs finally subsiding into dry heaves, she let herself out of the stall. She found herself wishing for her makeup bag as she took in her blotchy red face and puffy eyes. She ran a paper towel under warm water and washed her face. She looked slightly less deplorable, not that Reid would care.

"You want to borrow some?" a voice next to her asked, pushing a make-up bag in her direction.

"Yes, thank you!" Emily turned to the stranger as she began applying some eye make-up.

"You here for your husband? Boyfriend?" the petite stranger asked.

"What? No. Just a friend. Everyone else who came here to see him is being a jerk and it makes me sick, he deserves better. Thank you," she said, returning the cosmetics to the bag.

"You're welcome. Where are you going?"

"ICU."

"Damn."

"You said it, well good luck."

"You too."

The woman left, leaving Emily to soak her hands in cold water before she too left and prepared herself for another round of torture.

When she returned, it was to the sight of Garcia holding Reid's arm upright, his one hand clasped in both of hers, her chin resting on the fist. It was so sweet, and so terrifying. Damn.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Emily, what?"

Emily rushed to the other side of the bed, prying Garcia's hands away from Reid's. Apparently leaving him in Garcia's care had been a mistake after all. "Let go. Let go of him, Garcia! Nurse!"

But it wasn't the nurses who pulled back the curtain a moment later. It was Dr. Wilson...and if looks could kill...

* * *

"Jason, you can't be serious."

Aaron Hotchner's patience was on its last legs.

"I can't. I just can't."

They were sitting in Reid's former hospital room, sitting in chairs on either side of where the bed should have been."Reid named you as his medical proxy in his Advance Directive."

"I heard you!" Gideon spat, staring at his shoes. They were still caked in mud from the graveyard. "Those forms have two names on them! Give it to the other person! I can't do it."

"That someone else isn't here right now. You, however, are here and you need to respect Reid's wishes. He deserves that much and more!"

"I can't, I just can't."

"Can't or won't? Explain something to me, Jason Gideon. Everyone else on the team has helped in anyway that they could. Garcia sang to him last night, J.J. came to see him this morning. Emily...God, Emily even stayed with him while the doctor was giving him the epidural last night. She's gone above and beyond any and all expectations. She's still with him! Morgan, well Morgan tried to help. It backfired in a major way, but he tried. You? You left the ER while his condition was still critical and you only went to see him once for five minutes AFTER the second cardiac arrest..and then you do what? Go back to the Field Office? Why?"

"Reid's injury doesn't change the fact that there's still work to be done."

"Work that can WAIT! No one else is in danger of Hankel's 'justice'. The _paper work_ can wait! Reid can't. He looks up to you more than any person on this team, so why won't you help him for the love of God?"

"Why? Because he deserves better, because...because how can I be his medical proxy when I got him killed?!" There was a fire in those old blue eyes that Hotch had never seen before.

"Gideon, you didn't hurt a hair on his head - and he isn't dead."

There was compassion in Hotch's voice. Too much compassion, compassion that he didn't deserve. "He was, for six minutes. I didn't have to touch him to hurt him, I..." He put his head in his hands and counted to 10. "I sent out the virus warning."

"I don't follow."

"After the murder was posted online, I... I didn't want him to think he had a pulpit so I, I asked Garcia to take it down. She said she couldn't and suggested sending out a virus warning so no one else would open the file."

Hotch's jaw dropped. "Let me get this straight, we had a sadistic unsub in a psychotic break _holding Reid hostage_ and you thought it was a good idea to take away his control of the situation? How could you -?"

"I had to take away his pulpit."

"Why? What difference would it have made to give him a soap box to stand on for a few more days?"

"I didn't want people thinking that he had the right idea. If he had an accomplice, we'd have even more victims on our hands."

"We do have another victim on our hands - _Reid!_ Reid's life was in danger, not some nameless stranger's. Our victims - our team - are our priorities. We don't borrow trouble. Besides, most of those website comments were of people who thought he was making a horror film! How -? How could you gamble with Reid's life so carelessly? First you call the press in the Garner case and now this?"

"You called the press?" a familiar feminine voice spoke up from the open doorway. They turned around, their suspicions being confirmed. It was Elle Greenaway, she was leaning on the door frame. You didn't need to be a profiler to detect her anger and disgust. "And here I thought Hotch was the idiot who got me shot."

"Elle, what are you doing here?" Hotch asked cautiously. The last thing they needed was a loose cannon.

"Garcia called me this morning and texted me this room number. So how badly did you screw up to make Garcia think that I was needed to help Reid?"

"How much did Garcia tell you?"

"An unsub grabbed Reid, held him for three days and he's in the hospital."

Hotch sighed, of course that's all she said. "Well that's the footnotes version."

"So what's full article, then?"

Elle pulled up a chair from the other side of the room and sat listening with her arms and legs crossed, her anger growing by the second. "Let me get this straight, Hotch. You sent J.J. and Reid, the two youngest most inexperienced agents right into the unsub's lair out in open country with no cell service to call for back up and you were actually surprised that they got hurt?"

"J.J. wasn't hurt, and it wasn't like that," Gideon spoke up, his eyes on his hands.

"Gideon, don't defend him! Hotch is -"

"What Hotch is or is not is not up for discussion. I'm just stating facts. We thought Hankel was a witness only, there was no need to expect danger."

"I thought the team's motto was 'expect the unexpected'."

"We got complacent. We want to make sure we don't let Reid down again."

"So where do I come in?"

Hotch leveled his eyes at her, she met his, assessing him just as much as he was assessing her.

He didn't like that Garcia had called her without consulting him, but he wasn't her boss anymore. He couldn't ban her from seeing Reid and maybe Garcia was on to something - after all she was the only person who had a clue as to what Reid was going through. She could be a huge help when - if- he woke up. Or she could be just the opposite."We need to know how we failed you - and we did fail you. You were right, we didn't have your back. We didn't have Reid's. We didn't learn. What we need right now, is a crash course."

"A crash course in what?"

"Victimology." Gideon's one word sent shivers down her back. "The study of victim behavior. We've dealt with victims before, but we ask them a few questions then give them back to their families. They are out of mind and out of sight. How to deal with them in the aftermath of a crime - it was something we had not needed to do before. And when we did, we dropped the ball. We can't afford to do that this time. Help us to help Reid."

"So you want me to help you profile Reid from a victimology stand point?"

"Yes."

"No," she insisted. "Victimology profiles go like this: thin, white male in his late twenties, single. Raised in Las Vegas and moved to Virginia to take a federal job. There's your victimology profile: physical appearance, job, marital status and geography. If you want to know how to help him, you have to know how he'll respond to certain situations and to do that, you need a complete profile. You need to prolife him like an unsub."

 _"Profile him like an unsub?"_ Hotch echoed, not liking where Elle was going with this.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Elle challenged. "We've seen unsubs crack under less pressure and you know it -"

"Like you cracked?"

"Hey, that bastard was asking for it, so I gave it to him."


	16. Chapter 16

"Elle, that's...crazy." There was no other word for it. "We don't profile each other, we respect each other's privacy."

"Like we respected Morgan's?"

"That was different, Gideon. Gordinsky thought Morgan was a viable homicide suspect. We HAD to profile him to help him, but this? Reid isn't suspected of anything. He's a victim, we help victims. We DON'T exploit them."

"You're not exploiting him, you're trying to understand him...it's only exploitation if you use the information _against_ him."

"Technicalities. If Reid wants our help, he will ask for it."

"No he won't. He never has before."

"This is just wrong." Hotch put his head in his hands. He was of half a mind to just storm out, but then he thought of Reid, crying in J.J.'s arms for nearly half an hour, his cries turning into painful screeches, like he was holding back a scream. If he was in that much pain while trying to maintain control. "Okay, you're right. He needs help, but that's what psych evals and counselors are for."

"Come on, Hotch, we all know that Reid is smart enough to know the 'correct' answers to the psych questions."

"Elle, why are you doing this?"

"Why? Because the night I shot Lee, Reid realized that I was hurting and he came to me to help me. I wouldn't let him, but he was the only one who cared enough to try. I owe him. He helps people so much because deep down he hopes that he will get that kind of help in return and its up to us - me, apparently - to make sure that he gets it when he needs it the most. So what do you know about Reid? Besides the basics that's he's a genius prodigy with a - whatever kind of memory that is."

"Eidetic."

"Right, eidetic, now what does that mean?"

Elle couldn't believe that she had to walk her former bosses through this - and they called themselves profilers. It was laughable. Maybe, as a last resort, she could apply for a teaching position at the academy - heaven knew she was doing a better job than Gideon.

"It means that he remembers everything with perfect clarity."

"It means he can't forget." It meant that no matter what he did to hide from the pain and the memories, they would never go away.

"Exactly. Now what else do we know? Childhood prodigy, ill mother..."

"Absent father who left him with said mother." Elle reminded herself to get out of the way when William Reid eventually showed his face. She didn't want to be a casualty of Hotch's rage.

"We don't know that," Gideon protested. "His mother may have been diagnosed after the fact. For all we know, William Reid may have left his son in perfectly competent care." Of course Gideon would defend William...one dead beat dad defending another. Maybe she could deck him later. She hoped he gave her the excuse, not that she needed one.

"Oh, like that makes it okay?"

"Not okay, no, but it does affect the profile."

"Okay, so back to the childhood prodigy part. What do you know about his school years?"

"He graduated from high school before he was a teenager."

"He gets most of his knowledge from books, not experience. We all know that Reid -for lack of a better word - flaunts his excessive knowledge. It's a coping mechanism to cover up his lack of experience and confidence. He could probably rattle off all of the rules for baseball. That doesn't mean he's going to have good hand eye coordination. Just because you know how to do something doesn't mean you can actually do it."

"Case in point, he's failed his gun qualification several times." Elle distinctly remembered the way Reid had ripped the whistle Morgan had given him off in embarrassment. Perhaps he should have kept it after all.

"When Philip Dowd had us hostage, I kicked him so the hostages would be out of the line of fire. He, he took the beating. Hunkered down into a fetal position to protect his stomach. It was instinct...he even told me that I kicked like a 12-year-old girl."

"So he's no stranger to beatings. The question is was the abuse parental or limited to schoolyard bullying."

"Abuse victims go one of two ways: either taking that anger out on a surrogate or protecting those who they see like themselves."

"Okay, so he protects people, he's empathetic."

"Especially in the cases of the mentally disturbed. Most people see the monster first, the fact they they are sick people with families is secondary."

"He sees his mother in them. He doesn't see it as putting away a monster, he thinks of it as tearing apart a family."

"Take Nathan Harris, for example. Everyone else on the team was ready to write him off. He fit the profile. We saw an unsub in the making, he saw someone he could help. Why?"

"Because he's scared of his own mind. He knows his chances of developing schizophrenia."

"Then add his father's abandonmet-"

"We don't know that. Divorce, is messy."

"Yes it is, but what do kids automatically think? They think its their fault. But there was no divorce - the three of them still have the same name which means there was no drawn out legal process, for whatever reason. William Reid just got up and left - records show his home address matched Diana's until 1991 when Spencer would have been 10. Something just made him leave one day, and all bets are on that Spencer thought he was one of those things."

"Okay, what else?"

"He's too empathetic. He tries to help people even if its to his own detriment. Think about the Randal Garner case -"

"I'd rather not!"

"Rather than run at the sight of the bomb, he kept trying to talk Garner down, and even after the bomb went off and the building was on fire - he was on fire. He was literally on fire and he still risked life and limb to find Rebecca. Everyone else was telling him to leave but he wouldn't. We followed him, we almost never made it out. I almost never saw Haley or Jack again. But Reid -"

"'-Reid doesn't have a Haley or Jack. He doesn't have a 'family'. He most likely did at one point, had it torn away. He doesn't want anyone else to experience that if he can help it. He doesn't want other people to feel the same pain that he did - that's what drives him, just as much if not more than the puzzles."

"What we have in Reid is a young man who has been exploited for his knowledge, tormented with no guiding parental figure, has a family history of mental illness. He's organized, he's efficient..."

"Gideon STOP!" This sounded too much like delivering an unsub profile for his liking.

"Did I say anything that wasn't true?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you think Reid is going to be so tormented by this memory that he'll...snap...go all-out unsub on us to make the pain go away? The whole time Hankel had him, you were reassuring me that Reid is strong enough to pull through. You were right, he has -why are you loosing confidence in him now" The thought was ridiculous...but how many times had the families of the unsubs said the same thing...'He would never.'? Well it was certainly true that he never thought Elle would shoot someone in cold blood, but she had. It didn't even matter that the man was a rapist, even unsubs deserved to have a fair trial. Elle was doing this because she wanted to help Reid avoid a similar path to the one she had taken.

"No, he wasn't strong enough and Hankel did break him." Gideon replied calmly. "But I honestly think he'd chose suicide over homicide."

"You can't honestly think that Reid is suicidal!" Reid didn't profile as suicidal, he had too much to live for. It was true that Reid had almost no sense of self-preservation, but there was a line - a fine one, but still a line - between self-sacrifice and suicide.

"I do, because he did."

Hotch dropped his jaw in astonishment. "When did -?"

"Think about it Hotch, Reid's - he's here. Why? Because he confessed. He had the profile! He knew that Hankel killed sinners, he knew he'd given us a clue. Why do something tantamount to suicide when you are so close to rescue?" Gideon paused, not wanting to continue. "He's at the age when schizophrenic breaks happen and I _do_ believe that Reid would take his own life if he thought he was suffering a psychotic break. He has seen too many psychotic breaks to risk -"

"He's also knows the signs well enough to seek help if they ever come up." The name Nathan Harris was not brought up again, but then again they didn't have to. Reid had been so eager to help Nathan, because in the boy, he saw himself.

Aaron Hotchner stormed out of the patient-less hospital room, fuming - not sparing a glance for either Gideon or Elle. He wanted more than anything to tell himself that Gideon was wrong. He had to be wrong. There was no way...Gideon hadn't said anything wrong and yet he couldn't see Reid in that light. The profile of an abused and abandoned child somehow did not fit the shy nerdy genius that he had known for the last three years. Everything about Reid screamed 'innocent', not 'unsub'. He had to see him.

* * *

Elle Greenaway watched Aaron Hotchner storm out of the hospital room, with a smile of smug satisfaction. Well at least now he'd had his head screwed back on. She settled down into the chair, observing Gideon who perfectly fit the part of a migraine patient with his head in his hands, rubbing at this temple.

"So, you're the one who called the press." She crossed her arms, smirking, as he raised his eyes to meet her steely gaze. The fight was gone from them. All that was left was a careworn look of someone who had seen too much, endured too much. She hoped he couldn't sleep at night, hoped he'd learned something from all of this. Well, apparently he hadn't if he'd antagonized the unsub...again."What exactly did you hope to gain?"

"From what?" He didn't have the time or energy to deal with her feisty attitude.

"This, that, any of it. Why did you go against Garner and Hankel?"

"We had nothing, we needed them to make a mistake. That's the only way to catch these guys, you know that. I thought you'd understand."

"What I _understand,_ Gideon is that you might well have painted a target on a target on my back! And now Reid? Are we really that expendable that you can use us as target practice whenever you're stuck on a case!? We are people! Not chunks of meat to string up as bait!"

"That's part of the job!"

"No, it isn't, Jason! If its a sting operation that's planned in advance, yes. In Ohio, yes. But this? How scared do you think Reid was when he found out about this virus warning? Do you think he thought, 'Oh, good, now he'll do something stupid when he's got a gun to my head'?! Do you think that gave him any measure or relief or confidence in the team!?"

Gideon leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, Reid's begging for help echoing in his ears as he was struck across the face again and again. As far as unsub brutality went it was pretty tame, but when coupled with the drug use and starvation, not to mention the threat of the knife and gun..."No."

"He had every confidence in the team and you let him down. Is there anything else I need to know about?"

Gideon paused and Elle could tell that he was trying to decide if he should tell her something. Gideon being cautious now, was a sign of self-preservation - and it was a bad one.

"Out with it!"

"We saw a video of Reid being told to choose a person to save. But that meant, that he was by default not saving the next victim. The unsub - Hankel - he was monitoring his victims through their webcams. When we got to the crime scene, he had left the webcam on. I thought perhaps that he had left the camera on so Reid could watch the slaughter -"

Elle put her head in her hands, torn between anger at Gideon and sympathy for Reid. Here she had thought Reid had suffered a gun shot, not unlike her own.

"-so I sat down and talked to him through the webcam. It was one way, so I couldn't see him, but I had to do something. I had to."

Elle felt a feeling of dread growing in her stomach. "Gideon, what did you do?"

"I told him to stay strong, that Hankel couldn't break him."

 _"You what!?"_

"I was trying to give him some encouragement." The excuse sounded feeble and they both knew it.

"Did the unsub see this?"

"I don't know - maybe. I don't know how his computer was set up."

"Encouragement? No, Gideon. What you should have done was demean him. Tell him he was pathetic for being captured in the first place. Then at least he would feel the need to prove you wrong, instead you gave that motivation to the unsub! Better for the unsub to underestimate Reid's strength and to be proven wrong than for the unsub to overestimate it and try to prove you wrong. Tell me, what happened after that? Hmm, did the videos end? Or did you get more videos sent yo you, with brutality worse than before? And was this before or after this virus warning that Hotch mentioned?"

"Before."

"So let me get this straight: you give the unsub a challenge by telling Reid that he's the stronger of the two. What happened after that?"

Gideon swallowed, unable to look Elle in the eye. "That was the first time he hit Reid. Well, the first time we saw it. He had been beaten when the cameras first came on, but until then we just saw the aftermath, not the actual beating."

"So he was showing you his strength. He was determined to prove you wrong...and THEN you take away his control." She dug her fingers into her palms, fighting the urge beat the crap out of him. "Dammit it, Gideon! We're supposed to play it safe when dealing with hostages, but when it's Reid hostage, you throw caution to the wind? What happened after that?"

Gideon said nothing, his head between his hands and his eyes on the floor, the bloody coward. She used to have some respect for him.

 _"What happened?"_

"Reid was chained to a chair, struck across the face several times...and thrown to the concrete floor."

"So he's in the hospital because you pushed the unsub so far that he thought he had to throw Reid to the concrete floor to prove his superiority?"

"No."

"No?"

"No, what?"

"No that's not the reason he's here. He's here because of the knife wound."

" _Knife?_ _He was stabbed!?"_

"In the back, yes!"

Elle felt her eyes go as wide as quarters. She felt sick that Gideon could say that so calmly, that it had even happened at all. Of all the stupid, incompetent... He was supposed to be the most experienced...How could be be so reckless? "Do yourself a favor, when he gets back. Leave."

"Back?

"Yes, back from what ever test he's having done. I'm going to have one hell of a time playing counselor after this case!" She would help where she could but Reid was going to need professional counseling after this. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if he left the team. She hoped he did, they didn't deserve his genius help after this disaster.

"What? What test?"

"His medical test - which ever one they took him to get. This is Reid's room and there's no Reid, so..."

"Garcia didn't tell you?" Of course she hadn't, Elle had come here obviously. Gideon swallowed a lump in his throat, wishing that Hotch hadn't left. "Reid's in the ICU...comatose."


	17. Chapter 17

Well I might be able to write this chapter if my computer can survive the attack of the kitty. So far he's deleted one draft and clawed off two keys.

And I did it again, I added some Elle/Gideon dialogue after Hotch left in the last chapter. And very uncharacteristically, I have written three advance chapters with William and Spencer. Those scenes were stuck in my head while this chapter was giving me writer's block.

* * *

These agents were going to be the death of him - or his patient - Dr. Wilson realized as he walked out of the ICU. Hadn't he been clear enough about the temperature regulation? But Agent Garcia was right, he hadn't explained how his temperature was regulated, she had only been trying to give Dr. Reid the comfort he had encouraged. She hadn't known that taking his arm out from under the cooling blankets could be detrimental to his recovery. He couldn't be mad at her though, not after her hysterical crying as he checked Dr. Reid's temperature. If Agent Prentiss hadn't returned when she had...

He entered the waiting room, only to find another FBI/kindergarten argument...only this time even Agent Hotchner was in the thick of it. This couldn't be good.

"You did what?" Agent Hotchner had never looked so angry, but his angry eyes were locked not on Agent Garcia, but at - Agent Gideon?

Agent Gideon was one of the calm rational ones. What was going on here?

"That's what you told him on the webcam!? If you're not going to talk to Dr. Wilson, then...just go! If I see your face here again -" The threat hung in the air. "Just go home! At least Strauss will be glad to see you!"

Gideon looked like he was going to argue, but in the end, he bowed his head and walked out the door without a glance back.

Wow! Well there went his medical proxy contact. Hopefully he wouldn't have to call the man.

"How is he?" Agent Garcia was the first one to see him.

"Fine, or as fine as he can be. His temperature is still within therapeutic range. No harm, no foul."

"Thank you."

"You want to thank me? Next time ask the nurses before you move anything. I know you didn't mean any harm, but stay away from my patient until you calm down. You can see him again in the morning." He turned around to leave, but then changed his mind. "When his family arrives, leave them to me. I don't want them getting overwhelmed with gruesome case details." He looked from one agent to the next, making sure they had the message, stopping short when he came across a new face.

"Ethel Armenta?"

"No, Elle Greenaway. _Former_ Agent Elle Greenaway. I left the Bureau a couple of months ago."

"So you don't know what happened?"

"I was just getting the _full_ update."

"Sorry," Agent Garcia grimaced. "He wasn't in the ICU when Morgan asked me to call you and then -"

"And then you forgot I was coming because you were worried for Reid. It's okay, _you_ at least didn't do anything wrong. Can't say the same for the rest of you idiots."

Dr. Wilson decided he liked this Agent - former - Agent Greenaway. "Let me know when they get here."

Aaron Hotchner watched the doctor leave, feeling guilty about the relief flooding his overwhelmed mind. This at least was one notification he wouldn't have to give. "Does anyone know when his family is getting here?"

"Yes, I checked airline records." He'd have to have a talk with her about abusing privileged information. "I've found two tickets booked by Ethel Armenta's credit card, as well as tickets for William Reid and a David Armenta. David is coming from New York, he's going to be the first to arrive. His flight lands-" She checked her phone clock - "within the hour."

That wasn't all, he could tell by the grimace on her face. "Garcia?"

"Ethel Armenta booked a flight to Vegas and then two from Vegas to Atlanta International."

"Two?"

"Don't tell me she's -" But of course she was. Damn.

"What?" Emily looked at everyone in turn wondering why every had identical looks for frustration and sympathy.

"Reid's mom is coming."

"Well of course she is, her son is in the hospital." Why on earth did everyone look like a tornado warning had just been issued? "I know Reid said she was sick, but -"

"He told you?" Morgan's sharp voice sounded way too surprised for this to be good.

"Dr. Baker was asking about his family. Why -?"

Morgan gave Hotch a questioning look. He did not want to explain this. Reid hadn't volunteered this information to any of them. Telling Emily felt like a betrayal, but she'd find out soon enough anyway. Hotch nodded his permission, his attention turned to J.J. who hadn't moved from her seat.

"His mom isn't just sick, Emily. She's schizophrenic...and institutionalized."

Emily' felt her jaw drop to the ground of its own accord. "His dad left him with his schizophrenic mother?"

"You know about his dad too?"

"He mentioned his dad at the same time. Did any of you -?"

"No, we only found out about his dad when trying to find a number for family notifications. He never told any of us."

How well did they actually know Reid, anyway?

"It's like Gideon said, she may have been diagnosed after he left. Let's not rush to judgement when he gets here. I think we should let him say his piece before we all line up to deck him."

"Elle Greenawawy being the cool head. Who would have guessed?"

"Just because I can kick ass, Morgan, doesn't mean I always do. It might surprise you, but I do know when to stand down."

Hotch sat down next to J.J. who hadn't moved from her seat in...had it really been hours?

"Are you okay?"

J.J. shook her head. "Why? Why would he confess? He had the profile, he knew Hankel killed sinners. We were 10 minutes away, Hotch! 10 more minutes and he would have been fine!"

"J.J. the drugs -"

"He was drugged too?"

He didn't have time for Elle's dramatics right now.

"Don't make excuses for him, Hotch! He was thinking clearly enough to give us a clue at gunpoint minutes before we left. Why? It's, its like he...wanted to die!"

"That's not true, J.J. If he wanted to die, he could have given up at any time in the E.R. or as he lay in - in the dirt." He couldn't say 'Reid's grave.' He just couldn't. "But he didn't give up, he fought." Profiler or no profiler, she and Gideon had come to the same conclusion. "And we're going to continue to fight for him. What's really going on? Why don't you want to see him?" Morgan and Garcia had been badgering him to talk to Dr. Wilson on their behalf. J.J was the only one who had remained silent.

"I can't, I just can't. I'm so mad at him. Before my sister died, she fell into a coma and -" She blinked back the tears again. She hadn't told the team about Rosalyn's suicide and she wasn't about to now. "I stayed by her bed and begged her to wake up. For days I stayed and I begged...and it was all for nothing. I can't do that again, Hotch. I can't. But I can't leave him either."

"J.J." They looked up to see Garcia. "If you want to help him, I've got an idea."

"What is it?"

"If you call Reid's phone, I can record the call. I've got ear plugs, I won't listen. I've been making a playlist of music that I thought might be soothing. I can add the recorded audio files to the playlist so he can hear our voices even when we aren't there. I started making the playlist before realizing that ICU visiting hours don't actually end. I thought he was going to be alone all night and I couldn't stand the thought, so...anyway. Just text me when you call so I can start the recording and text me when you hang up. I'll do the rest."

"I think I'll do that. Thanks."

"Just remember what Dr. Wilson said, make sure you're calm before you call. Why don't you ladies head back to the hotel for some rest. Morgan and I will stay here and wait for his family. When are they getting in, again?" He couldn't deal with Elle right now. Garcia and J.J. were far from calm and Emily...Emily had earned a break and then some. Either way, he didn't want his family feeling overwhelmed when they did get here.

"Well David gets in right about now, but the rest aren't getting in until really late - like red eye late. I don't know if they're going to actually come here this evening or tomorrow morning."

Elle looked like she was about to protest, but in the end she walked out with the rest of them, leaving him and Morgan in the waiting room.

"You haven't been in to see him yet, have you?"

Hotch shook his head. "Neither have you."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who is banned."

Reid was all alone in there, for the first time since this had started. He reluctantly got to his feet and walked past the ward doors, dreading what he was going to find.

* Think of this chapter as the calm before the storm...and if anyone could tell me in which episode we first find out about Rosalyn Jereau's suicide that might help me write J.J. a little better.


	18. Chapter 18

Aaron Hotchner took the seat next to Reid's ICU bed, unable to comprehend what was staring him in the face. He had thought that coming here, getting away from Gideon would calm him down - but it hadn't. If anything, seeing what had become of Reid - and thinking about Gideon's involvement (however indirect) was just making him more and more angry. In all of the years they had known each other, he had never known Jason Gideon to be so senseless and careless with a victim. It brought home to him just how little he knew about his agents - and what drove them to such a demanding and emotionally grueling job. The only way a person could handle a job with this much stress was if they had the right motivation to go the extra 100 miles for the victims and their families...but where did that motivation come from?

For him merely prosecuting the criminals had no longer been enough. He had hated looking through the files as a prosecutor, counting the victims and imaging how many could have been saved. He had decided that it was up to him to save them. Haley didn't understand that it wasn't just the ego of wanting to be the hero, it was the need to save people from the destruction that he saw everyday.

J.J. and Garcia were the most emotionally fragile of the group. He knew that they both had a fierce desire for protection, though where that desire came from was still a mystery to him. Of course with Garcia the job had been at first merely a way to avoid federal prison, but he had seen her apply herself to the job above and beyond any of the other analysts and even before joining the Bureau her cyber attacks had been against those she thought were harming the innocent.

Emily Prentiss was still a complete mystery and he wasn't entirely comfortable with that. The way she had handled Reid thus far showed that she had far more experience with victims than a simple desk job rookie possibly could. That kind of calm under pressure did not come from merely looking at crime scene photos all day long. All he knew was that she had been raised overseas, knew Arabic and was a God-send to Reid. For that alone he could have kissed her.

For Morgan, it was the pursuit of justice and/or revenge against those who harmed the defenseless, a remnant of the pain he had suffered from Buford's manipulation and abuse. It was also an attempt (a successful one at that) to live up to his father's memory.

For Gideon, it was the victims that drove him the most, the need to put an end to their suffering. He felt their pain far more than any one else. So why when the victim was his protege had he been the most careless he had ever known him to be?

Then there was Reid.

Hotch gently rubbed his hand (which now lay on the cooling blanket) in soothing circles, his eyes never leaving Reid's closed ones. Somehow even in 'sleep' he looked troubled as if the horror of his memories had been etched into his skin.

"What did he do to you?" Hotch whispered. He had been banishing those thoughts all day. He couldn't focus on Reid's pain. Whenever he thought about it, it became too overwhelming. They saw crime scenes all day long, discussing the injuries inflicted at length, but not the pain those injuries caused nor the long term effects. They gave the crying and hysterical victims (the ones they managed to save at least) back to their families and in many cases never saw them again. That was how the team functioned, focusing too much on the pain would cloud their judgement. That hadn't changed on this case, personal involvement or not.

Reid had endured physical and psychological torture from the get-go, the beatings followed by being forced to choose who to save. That in turn meant choosing who not to save. He had been forced to watch the slaughter of the people he had 'chosen' to die? Had he sat there chained to the chair, hoping and maybe even praying to see the team arrive on the webcam before Hankel? Had he tried to cover his ears with his handcuffed hands to drown out the sound of their screams? Had Hankel forced them to face the camera to give Reid 'the best seat' from which to see the murder?

Had the drugging been equal amounts torture and pleasure: a method of control and pain relief all in one? Had he fought against the needle which would render him unable to escape? Or had he welcomed the reprieve from the nightmare? When he woke up would the drugs be a refuge from the pain or a reminder of it?

Gideon had been right about Reid. He was strong, he could make it. He had made it. No one who was weak could endure such psychological and physical torture and not break sooner. Had Hankel broken him? Yes, but Hotch thought he knew why Reid had broken after so long. It made him angry to think that Gideon and J.J. thought so little of him that they immediately jumped to the conclusion of suicide. Reid, after all, had shown none of the suicidal warning signs prior to this case: No deep depression, no social withdrawal, no spontaneous proclamations of love...none of it.

His own thoughts came back to him like a tidal wave: _there was a line - a fine one, but still a line - between self-sacrifice and suicide._

Hotch felt his eyes sting as they welled up. "You did it to save them." Drugged half out of his mind and with little hope that the team would figure out his clue in time to save him, he had confessed. But it had been - he was sure - a self-sacrificing act, not a suicidal one. Had he been so consumed by the guilt of 'choosing' someone to die that he had chosen himself as the next victim instead?

 _Kill me._ Reid's voice echoed in his head. _I lied._

But why? Why would he value their lives over his own?

 _I always take advantage of Reid for his brain, but I never taught him how to deal with things emotionally,_ his own voice echoed in his head.

Why? Why had he thought that it was up to him to teach Reid these things? He was 25 years old, he should have learned long ago. But he hadn't - why? Reid's profile came back to him, the answer staring at him in Gideon's careworn face.

 _What we have in Reid is a young man who has been exploited for his knowledge, tormented with no guiding parental figure, has a family history of mental illness. He's organized, he's efficient..._ No guiding parental figure.

With an absent father and a mentally unstable mother, Reid had essentially raised himself, the part of parent and child reversed well in advance of their years. Normally the child becoming the parent in a relationship only started with the onset of dementia or disease, usually when the 'child' was in his/her 50s. In this case it had started when Spencer was only 10 years old. He had done well for himself to be sure, but how was it possible? How could a child have taken care of his mentally ill mother and stayed under the radar of social services for so long? Surely someone had noticed the young child struggling on his own.

That was why Reid worked the cases. He wanted to help those who felt trapped and could not help themselves. He felt sympathetic for those who came from broken homes because his own was broken beyond a hope of repair. He felt empathy for the most vile monsters humanity had to offer because he saw just that - their humanity. He wanted to give the help that he had never received so that no one would feel as trapped and scared as he had. But he was strong, far stronger than any of the gave him credit for. He had survived everything that Hankel had thrown at him. He ran through the list again, trying to wrap his head around the full picture of this case in a way he never had before: beaten, drugged, psychological torture, concussion, seizure, heart attack, knife wound...

After all of that, was it so much to ask for a little support from the team? But rather than supporting him, they had furthered his torment in their own selfish desire to 'help'. They had pushed him over the edge. They had turned a deaf ear and blind eye to his pleas for sympathy and comfort.

He thought of Reid sobbing J.J.'s arms, the horrors of the last three days overwhelming his shocked mind. What had J.J. done? Her first response for comfort had been spot on, just what he had needed so badly. And then out of embarrassment it had ended when Garcia entered the room.

He thought of Garcia, so eager to ease the pain that she had outright ignored it. But he couldn't blame her, that's what she always did. She always refused to look at the crime scene photos, always cleaned out her mind with cute pictures and music whenever she did have the misfortune of seeing them.

And Morgan? Morgan was the one he was the most mad at besides Gideon. Morgan was the profiler, Morgan was the visitor who knew the extent of Reid's fractured memory. It was part of the reason he had finally allowed himself to sleep, he had felt confident in Morgan's ability to toe the line. So why had he gotten the knife for the detective? Why hadn't he asked the detective to come back later? He could have at least pulled the curtain to hide the knife from Reid's view. But for all of his stupidity, he couldn't blame Morgan either. Reid had so many risk factors tallied up that it was only a matter of time before one of them was triggered. He couldn't have know that it would scare...

Hotch closed his eyes as his mind completed that horrible thought: scare him to death. Reid had literally been scared to death.

This whole experience was putting the team under pressure in a way they never had been before. The rest of the team, the ones who had NOT been traumatized, were the ones cracking under pressure. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, Reid was the one who was coming out of the fire stronger than before.

Hotch let the tears fall, making no effort to stop them. He tightened his grip on Reid's cold hand, his voice breaking for the first time in...forever. "I'm so proud of you!"

* Family arrivals in the next chapter *

What got me writing this story this way was J.J.'s reaction to finding Spence in the graveyard. She comes up and gives him a hug which he leans into, and clings to but then she says "I'm so sorry" and he says "It's not your fault." She never even asked if he was okay. She eases her own guilt, Reid eases her guilt and then she turns away. He's even on the verge of tears and hugging Hotch. Hotch looks surprised but at last he returns the hug and asks if he's okay. The next episode no one seems to care or check on him as he's clearly distraught. They just seem to take away his gun for a while because we don't see him out in the field again until the season finale which in chronology is probably a few months later.


	19. Chapter 19

Diana hugged her herself, pulling her jacket tighter around her thin frame.

When was the last time she had even needed this jacket? She had completely forgotten she had it when Ethel had pulled it out of her closet...how many hours ago had that been? She stared out the window at the black expanse before her. There was nothing...no lights, no cars, no noise. Nothing but frigid cold and trees - lots of trees and signs. But there was only one sign that she was concerned with:Atlanta. Her Spencer was in Atlanta. Only, she paused as another lonely sign came into view, 15 more miles.

"He'll be okay," Ethel's warm hand reached for her cold one, squeezing it in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but Diana barely noticed.

Her Spencer was dying, that voice echoed in her head. She reached over to the radio dials and turned the volume up in attempt to drown out the voices.

Her Spencer was _fine_! That was exactly what Dr. Jessen had told her.

"We're here," Ethel's soft voice announced with a sigh of relief.

Diana fumbled with the seat belt, only to freeze when she saw - A motel sign? Where was-? She glanced frantically out the window, but there were no signs for Atlanta or hospitals. "No, no Spencer?"

Her panicked eyes met Ethel's exhausted ones. Ethel rubbed her face, in a vain effort to wake up. "Spencer's not here, Diana!"

"I want my baby."

Ethel leaned her head back against the seat, dialing the music down. She could not understand how Diana could listen to that...calling it music was a little too generous. "Diana, he's fine. Dr. Jessen spoke to him on the phone this afternoon. We'll probably find him reading a medical library in bed -tomorrow!"

"No! He can't read if he's dying!"

"You're hearing things again!" The frustrated resignation was impossible to disguise.

"No, I'm not crazy. Ethel, you have to believe me! My baby-"

A fellow mother she may be, but if Ethel heard the hysterical 'my baby' one more time, she was going to - what did Spencer call it? - snap? Boy did she ever HATE schizophrenia.

"DIANA! What do the voices always say?"

"They lie," she dutifully answered as always. She knew they lied, but these voices were different.

"Exactly, they lie. They are lying to you. Spencer is NOT dying!" How many times had Diana written to her, begging to be taken to Spencer, convinced that the CIA had kidnapped him? - and it was never the FBI, either. If it was the FBI at least she'd have a fallback. She didn't have any CIA contact numbers. If this was the first time, she'd be worried but Diana had this nightmare often enough that it was like crying wolf.

"Why would Spencer's doctor call you if he was fine?"

And there was the lynch pin of the argument: the only sensible thing she'd said all day. The one she kept harping on, over and over again. Doctors on the other side of the country simply did NOT join the pack cry.

"He just told me that Spencer was brought in after a case and that he needed family. He said and I quote 'I'll explain everything when you get here.'"

"But he didn't say that Spencer was fine."

"Dia-"

"He would have called by now if he was fine!"

"He's probably just sleeping off some medicine side-effect- you know, like you should be!" How Diana was even awake was a mystery to her.

Mother and son had few things in common, chief among them being a love of books and an inability to let something _go_! That had made dealing with Diana's delusions over the years a near impossibility. The only one who had ever been able to talk her down was Spencer

"Alright! Alright!" She threw her hands in the air in defeat...what had Spencer always said? 'You can't reason with crazy.' She couldn't argue with what was right in front of her, well actually she could. She did that all the time. "Let me go check in, _get some coffee_ , and we'll go to the hospital." She hated giving into delusions, hated seeing that satisfied almost-smirk on Diana's face. "We'll check in, be told he's fine but sleeping and come right back! Okay?"

"But I wan to see-"

" _Diana, it's 3 in the morning_! Visiting hours are over! Okay, I'll just talk to his doctor, find out everything I can, and we'll come back later."

The Arizona native stepped out into the nearly freezing morning air, locking the hysterical Diana inside the rental car. She loved Diana, she really did. But after being stuck next to her on the plan for five hours, was five minutes to collect her thoughts so much to ask for? She had forgotten how much Diana hated airplanes. It was a wonder they'd managed to not attract the attention of airport security.

 _Oh that boy is in SO MUCH trouble when I get my hands on him!_ She would never be so happy to see her nephew - she'd suffocate him in a hug and then berate him for an hour. How dare he scare his mother like this? Was one phone call so much to ask for?

If there was only one thing that could calm her down, it was him. Even if it was only the sound of his voice. And that was the other lynch pin holding the argument together: the fact that Spencer had not been on the phone since speaking to Dr. Jessen was alarming to say the least. He _knew_ how much his mother worried, even without cause...giving her cause was like...she searched her brain in vain for the proper description...like giving a hot stick of dynamite to a child. It just didn't happen.

 _He wouldn't do that_! Ethel knew that. She knew that as certain that the sun would rise. _Please be okay, Spencer!_ she prayed. He had to be okay. She didn't know what she would do with Diana if he wasn't okay.

* * *

 _"It's three thirty in the morning,"_ Ethel stressed to the nurse at the reception desk, wondering if she was the only sane person present. "What do you mean 'I'll take you to him'? I thought visiting hours were over."

The nurse hesitated for a moment before adding with a grimace, "The I.C.U doesn't close."

Ethel's heart stopped, or at least skipped a few beats. "What?" she deadpanned. _Oh please, no, no._ "He's in -?"

"The I.C.U., yes."

"I'll take it from here, thank you." Ethel felt a hand on her shoulder as she was guided down a white corridor. She hated white corridors, and the smell of antiseptics, and everything else that made a hospital, well, a hospital. "Have a seat."

She sat down cautiously - those instructions were rarely followed by anything positive - and raised her head to see a man in a white lab coat sitting behind the desk with a look of pity on what would have been a handsome face. "My name is Lawrence Wilson, I'm Spencer's doctor." He reached out a hand that she took out of habit. "You must be Mrs. Armenta."

She nodded numbly, reaching over to take Diana's hand, wondering why she had suddenly gone silent. They must have given her a sedative - but the seat was empty. "Dia-"

"She's fine, or as fine as she can be," Dr. Wilson at least tried to assure her.

"No, she -"

"-has schizophrenia, I know," he told her gently. "The team told me. She's got your son here, as well as Agents Hotchner and Morgan. She's in good hands. Can I get _you_ anything? You've had a long flight, I'm sure you're tired."

"No, just, Spencer -" She stopped short at the guarded look on the doctor's face. " _Please_ tell me you've got some good news for me."

"I do. He's alive."

* * *

Finally! Someone who was listening...someone was taking her to her baby! She'd show...where was? "Ethel?"

"She's talking to Dr. Wilson," the kind nurse explained. "This way, Mrs. Reid."

"My Spencer is here?"

"Yes, I'll take you to him -"

"Auntie Dia!"

She knew that name! Only one person called her that, but the voice was all wrong. It sounded..."Davey?" He was crying. Her nephew never cried. "What's wrong, Davey? Why are you crying?"

"Crying? Am not!" He wiped away the evidence from his clear blue eyes, forcing a smile for his aunt. "Auntie Dia, don't. Just stay here, okay. We need to talk!" They _really_ needed to talk.

"Of course we'll talk, you can tell me all about what Jessie did this time - and you can tell Spencer, too. The nurse is taking me -"

"Auntie Dia, I broke up with Jessie 5 years ago...and _Spencer_ is why we need to talk. Where's Mom, she didn't answer my calls?"

"No cell service out here, at least now _they_ can't find us here! They can't hurt my Spencer here! He's safe here." She had a satisfied smile on her face for a job well done, as if she had saved him. No one would hurt her baby, not while she could help it.

"Yes, yes, he's safe here!" _Safe from further physical harm at least,_ David thought bitterly. "Auntie Dia, look at me!" She met his calculating gaze as he took both of her hands in his. "Spencer is hurt and sick. His machines and blankets keep _-"_

"Hurt? They hurt my -?" She didn't need to hear any more. She ripped her hands free from her nephew and took off down the hallway, through the double doors, past protesting nurses and machines, lots and lots of machines. Heavy foot falls trailed her, falling into place beside her. A large, warm hand grasped hers, steering her down another hallway.

"Okay, okay, we'll go see Spencer! This way, Auntie Dia!"

Diana would by lying if David's behavior hadn't scared her. David didn't cry - hadn't cried since his father...

"Okay, here we are," said nephew interrupted that depressing train of thought. "Now what I did tell you _not_ to do?"

"No touching machines."

" _Or the blankets! Those are special-"_

"I don't care about the blankets! I want me son!" she screamed. Her patience was gone, long gone. She shoved David aside, or at least tried to, but he didn't budge.

David grasped his aunt's wrists, his large hands twice circling her frail ones. "Auntie Dia, I'll let you see him but you need to -"

"You can't keep my son away from me! Who do you think you are!?"

David Armenta kept his eyes on his struggling aunt. There was a look in her eyes that he remembered all too well. It was the look of fear and desperation all rolled into one. It was a silent challenge. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Damn, he'd thought Auntie Dia would come here drugged, not raving. What had his mother been thinking?

"Auntie Dia, look at me!" He waved off the nurses who were starting to gather around them. "I've got her." He tightened his grip. If she got away from him, they'd have to sedate her, again. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, but he hated doing that to her. "Look at me, look at me!" He kept is voice low and even, his eyes on his aunt's wandering ones. "Follow my lead, take a deep breath. Look at me!" He took a deep breath, in and out, relieved when she followed suit. "There you go, look at me!" It was all about the eyes. Once he knew she wasn't looking at a delusion, they'd be okay."Spencer is here. Nobody is going to take him away." He kept up the mantra. "He's here. He's not going anywhere."

"He's okay. My baby's okay?!"

"He's right here." He couldn't bring himself to repeat his aunt's words. He wasn't okay, not by a long shot. He hated lying to her, delusion or not. "You need to calm down for me. Spencer needs his sleep, so we have to be quiet - and no touching the blankets!" If she dared to move the blankets, David had no doubt that Dr. Wilson would have her removed from the ward. If that was the case, his money would still be on Auntie Dia. "What did I say, Auntie?"

"No touching the blankets," she agreed. What was so important about the blankets anyway?

"Look at me." She did. He could still see the fear. Her hands were still trembling, but the fight had gone out of her eyes, at least for now. _Here goes nothing_. David stepped behind the drawn privacy curtain, motioning for her to follow. He stepped to the head of the bed, keeping his eyes on Diana and not Spencer. He couldn't look at Spencer. He swallowed another lump in his throat, plastering a smile on his face. It was a smile so lame he doubted it would fool even Auntie Dia, but he had to try. "Hey, Spencer, look who made it all the way from Sin City."

Diana hurried around the curtain, outright ignoring her nephew."Spencer, don't you ever scare me li -" Her voice broke as she approached the bed...its occupant covered in machines, completely. He was so still it was unreal. He didn't respond to her outburst, no moaning in sleep, no thrashing, no blinking eyes. "Spencer?"

David watched his aunt approach the bed of her only child. There was no worse feeling in the world than knowing something terrible was about to happen, and yet be unable to stop it. She reached down to the hand which rested on the cooling blanket, only to withdraw so quickly she may well have been shocked.

Diana's didn't move, frozen in time as she studied the face of this man who was so like her son...and yet. It couldn't be him. It _wasn't_ him. "Cold, no, he's, he's too cold. No, no, Danny..." She shook her head emphatically. "No, no that's not...No! No! Where's my son?!"

She turned wildly on the spot, searching for the perpetrator or what was the word her son always used? Unsub? There he was! "You!" she screamed, making a lunge for the man sleeping at her son's beside, only to be stopped by - "Davey, let me go! He's got my son! He's the unsub! He's got Spencer!"

"Auntie Dia, no!" Strong hands wrapped around her waist before she could get to the bastard who had hurt her son!

 _So much for calm,_ David had hoped the man would wake up before his aunt arrived. Oh well, he must really be tired if he was sleeping through Hurricane Diana. He wrapped his arms around her so that hers were pinned to her side. He whispered what he hoped were soothing words in her ear as he laid his head on her shaking shoulder. Finally, her weight sagged under him. She'd given up the fight, the absence of the adrenaline rush left her kneeling on the floor, sobbing alternately for both Danny and Spencer, but neither one would answer.


	20. Chapter 20

TURN AROUND, BRIGHT EYES  
Every now and then I fall apart

Every now and then I get a little bit angry  
and I know I've got to get out and cry.

TURN AROUND

Every now and then I get a little bit terrified  
but then I see the look in your eyes.

Once upon a time there was light in my life but now there's only love in the  
dark.

\- Once again, partial lyrics to Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler.

 _Spencer Reid sipped his hot chocolate, wondering why he still felt cold. Well, cold, wasn't quite the right word. Cold was something that you got while walking outside without your jacket. Cold was something that you could cure with a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket. This was...different. This cold reached all the way to the bones, making every movement painful, every breath even._

 _"I don't feel good, I want my daddy!" he pouted, placing the mug in the car's cup holder. Daddy always knew how to make him better._

 _"It's okay, Spencer, you're safe here." A warm hand grasped his cold one, painfully tight._

 _Spencer could tell when people were lying. David sounded far too cheerful for one stuck out in the snow. "Daddy will be back soon. Want to build another snow man?"_

 _"I'm going to find Uncle Danny!" He let go of David's hand and opened the van's door, unperturbed by the blast of icy wind that welcomed him._

 _"Spencer, no!" David's frightened voice was soon drowned by the howling wind._

 _Spencer didn't care what David said, Uncle Danny should have been back by now, and they couldn't go home without Uncle Danny. He ran down the icy asphalt, through the blinding snow, his heart pounding in his chest. "Spencer, I'm here...safe here...can't go anywhere."_

 _David's voice grew fainter and fainter as he ran down the icy path, oblivious to everything around him. He may only be a 'little boy' but he was a smart little boy and he knew that Uncle Danny should have been back by now. He also knew that he had to get out of this painful cold, but that's all there was. No matter which way he looked. There were no road signs, no buildings, nothing but a frozen wasteland… and a distant voice on the horizon._

 _"Spencer! I want my son!"_

 _"I'm here, Mommy!" He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him towards the voice, but the source could not be found. Voices were calling his name all around, but he couldn't see anyone. David was lost in the fog and his mother...Her voice took on a new pitch that sent shivers down his spine - shivers that had nothing to do with the frost gathering on his small cheeks._

 _"Danny, no! No please!"_

* * *

A wailing noise pierced Aaron Hotchner's ears, leaving an alarming ring in its wake. He groped around in the darkness for the snooze button, only to hit..hair. But Haley didn't sleep on this side of the bed. What? He blinked his eyes open to see...damn it wasn't a nightmare after all. He had actually fallen asleep at Reid's bedside for...he glanced at his cell phone. 6 hours. Amazing.

 _"Danny!"_

He lifted his head up, trying to conceal a yawn. It wasn't Haley's head that he had found in his slumber - of course it wasn't. It was Reid's - and that infernal noise was his mother sobbing at his bedside. A thin, blond, young man, not much older than her son, knelt beside her at a loss for words.

"That's not -" He stopped himself at the young man's vigorous head shake. He had no idea who 'Danny' was, but he doubted that she'd calm down once she realized that the man covered in medical equipment was her beloved son.

He stood to introduced himself. "Aaron Hotchner, or -"

"Hotch, I've heard a lot about you. David Armenta, Spencer's cousin."

"May I?" Hotch nodded in Diana's direction.

Hotch could have smiled at the relief on David's face as he got to his feet. He was clearly out his element trying to calm his aunt. He was no stranger to her moods, but it had always been his mom and Spencer who handled her...but Hotch? He knew Hotch dealt with crazy and hysterical all the time, perhaps he'd have better luck. "I'll just go get my mom."

Hotch gently pulled Diana away from her son, remembering Dr. Wilson's very strict warning about remaining calm and not touching equipment- the way she was laying on cords for example, would be frowned upon. He knew better than to think Diana Reid and calm would be a possibility, but perhaps he could get her away from hysterical. He wrapped his arms around the thin, almost emaciated, woman, hot tears pouring onto his shoulder.

He rubbed her back in soothing circles, his eyes on Reid and hers averted. He felt like he should say something to her but what? _I'm sorry?_ \- no, that would require more explanation than she could handle. Technically, he in particular had no reason to be sorry. He had figured out Reid's clue - he had in fact saved her son. _It's okay?_ Well clearly it wasn't. Was there any comfort that he could offer to her? Any hope at all? Normally he would stick to the routine lines of 'We'll find him' or 'We'll find the man responsible.' But they'd found Reid and killed Hankel. There was nothing more to do, nothing more to promise. He kept his eyes on his motionless agent. What would Reid do? Reid would know how to handle her. Well of course he would, if he could handle the situation then it wouldn't even exist. That was rather the point.

"William? Where's Spencer?"

William? So, apparently they'd caught her on a bad day. A really bad day.

He opened his mouth to deny being William, but stopped himself. What would Reid do?

"The doctor called, he said Spencer was hurt."

The answer came to him as easily as 1, 2, 3. He would minimize her pain. He would protect her. "He's just sleeping, Diana. He injured his back, but the doctors fixed him up. You can see him in the morning. Just go to sleep, my dear. You can see Spencer in the morning."

* * *

It was eerily silent in the ICU, save for the sound of beeping machines and raspy breathing from behind drawn curtains as Ethel Armenta hastily made her way down the rows of hospital beds, dreading what she was going to find.

"Danny! Danny, wake up!" The voice was groggy and half asleep but unmistakable. Diana.

She pulled back the curtain the nurse indicated. Diana was huddled in a man's arms...sleeping almost peacefully as he ran a hand through her hair. She breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into a chair on the other side of the bed. "Oh thank God!"

"Ethel Armenta?"

"That's me, and you must be, no let me guess...Agent Hotchner, right?"

"You got me. How did you -?"

"Well I met Agent Morgan in the lobby, you don't look old enough to be Gideon, which leaves - well, you."

"I promise not to tell him you said that."

"Thank you." She inclined her head towards Diana. She wanted to say something else, but couldn't find the words past the lump in her throat. "I was so worried, I -"

"You're welcome."

Apparently words weren't needed, actions were what mattered and right now seeing Diana calm and not raving was everything she could have hoped for and more.

"Danny!" Diana suddenly jumped up from the floor, her frantic eyes darting around her, her eyes landing on her son. "Danny! He's dead! He's dead!"

"No! No, Diana, look. See the screens?" Hotchner turned her face away from her son and towards the screens. "That's his blood pressure, and his heart rate. See? He's not dead!"

"Danny's alive?!"

Ethel tried to keep her face neutral, tried more than anything to keep her chin up and her voice from shaking. It was no wonder that Diana had regressed. She could feel herself becoming lost to the memories, and she wasn't the crazy one. "Yes, he's alive." She was rather proud of herself. She'd only let a couple of tears escape.

Diana pulled herself out of Hotch's arms, reaching for her son. "Danny! Danny, wake up! He's cold, why is he so cold, William?"

"Um, well.."

In any other circumstance, Ethel may have laughed at the look of confusion on the man's face as he turned to her desperately searching for a response that would not cause a panic.

"He just arrived," Ethel answered, her voice shaking and lips trembling. "Diana, what day is it?"

"December 20."

"How old is Spencer again? I always forget his age difference to David." Ethel Armenta was a very good actress, her voice and body language giving away nothing but honest sincerity.

"He's four, such a smart child. Did you know he's already beating William at Chess? Isn't the right, William? He beat you yesterday."

"Only because I let him win." Reid winning at Chess when he was four? He couldn't beat Gideon, well then again neither could he.

"You did not! My little genius won all by himself!"

"If you say so." He had once advised Gideon not to reason with crazy. Well that had been a pyromaniac student with OCD but the same principle still applied.

"Go back to sleep, Dia. You've had a long day. We'll let you know when Spencer and...and _Danny_ wake up." There was no mistaking the trembling voice, which Hotch suspected had just as much do with Danny as it did with Spencer.

Hotch put his arms around Diana. "Let Danny sleep, Diana. You can see them tomorrow. Come here." He outright ignored the eyebrows climbing into Ethel's hairline as he situated Diana in his lap and draped a blanket around her, holding her in his arms. He could only imagine Haley's reaction if a picture of this ever reached her eyes.

Ethel Armenta said nothing as Diana fell asleep against Agent Hotchner's chest. Diana was as calm as she'd been all night and for that she was grateful.

She turned her attention away from Diana and onto Spencer, Dr. Wilson's words ringing in her head and her heart sinking to her stomach. This had to be a nightmare. She reached out to her nephew's check, surprised to find it chilled but dry. From all the pain the doctor had described she had expected him to be grimacing or crying in his sleep, but he didn't look that way. He looked worried, but not in pain, if that made any sense. She sucked in a gulp of air as she felt her jaw starting to shake and her eyes welling up. She rubbed at her eyes.

 _Stop it, Ethel_. _You're here for Diana. You can't help her if you loose control yourself. Don't be ridiculous, Diana thinks he's Danny. She won't be alarmed by your tears._ "He said you were fine!" she cried. "Dammit!" She bit her tongue in time to stop her nephew's name from leaving her lips. Damn him.

 _He's alive. Danny's alive._

Those words echoed in Ethel Armenta putting an ache in her heart so deep that it almost felt...real. _Stop it,_ Ethel. _You're not the schizophrenic one, you know that's not true._ She clung to her nephew's eerily still body, that familiar chill radiating down her spine, having both nothing and everything to do with her nephew's condition.

"You said you were fine!" she cried, not removing her head from his shoulder, squeezing his limp hand.

Aaron Hotchner wrapped his arms around Diana, thankful that she had fallen asleep, thankful that he no longer had to whisper comforting lies. Hope was a double-edged sword, it was sometimes the only thing that family had left and yet the higher you rise, the harder you fall. He always tried to let the family down gently. He wished he had ear plugs, between both of the women's tears his ears felt like they were being assaulted. He felt like an intruder, an unwelcome witness to their grief. It made him feel...dirty. This was private, but he didn't dare wake Diana. He kept his eyes on her pale blue jacket, allowing Mrs. Armenta as much privacy as could be had. He carded his hands through Diana's tangled hair, much as he had for her son last night. Had it really only been a day? When was the last time the clock had crept on by like this?

* * *

Derek Morgan was many things, but most of all he was a man of action. Men of action did not sit like lumps on a log waiting for the storms to hit, or in this case: hospital waiting rooms. Normally injuries within the team occurred during a case, applying even more pressure to find the unsub. Normally only one person stayed at the hospital to wait for news. But as Morgan saw Hotch wheel Diana Reid into the waiting room, complete with wrinkled shirt and bed head, he knew without a doubt, that none of them were ready to take on another case.

"So, you've met?" Hotch nodded towards the man sitting across from him with his head between in his hands.

"Yeah we've met," both voices answered with fatigue and apathy. Morgan had no doubt that had the meeting been anywhere else, the young men may have gotten along quite well. They would have spoken of sports and girls, even work perhaps. But there was nothing but an uncomfortable silence of David trying to clear his head and Morgan stumbling over empty words of comfort. He had eventually given up completely.

Hotch sat down next to David, his hands in his lap despite the paternal urge to offer some attempt at comfort. As far as he was concerned, the team was family and that extended to David, but whether or not David shared the same sentiment was doubtful. "I know this is hard."

"You have no idea," was David's predictable response. He offered a weak smile. It was not only weak. It was a front to feign stability where there was none. How many times had he seen the same on Reid's face when he denied the nightmares that had plagued him? These two could have easily passed for brothers.

"You're right." The team, in so much as they were personally involved with this case, had begun to cast themselves in the roles of the victim's family. But in taking the sidelines to watching Diana Reid and the Armenta family fall apart, it was becoming clear just how wrong they were. They were still able to think of the case from a law enforcement view, David had no such perspective. He didn't see a genius agent in that bed. He saw his cousin: no more, no less. "But I know Spencer well enough to know that his primary concern right now would be for his mother. Right now, she thinks that I'm William. She also thinks that Spencer's name is Danny. So I need to know -"

"No!" David jumped up from his seat, seeming to forget his gratitude towards Hotch from the moment of their meeting. "No, you don't! You don't need to know anything!" The feigned smile was gone replaced by a look of loathing.

"David - Mr. Armenta, I don't mean to pry, but if I'm going to help your aunt -"

"Help?" David snarled. "Where was your _help_ when Spencer -?" He stopped mid pace, pulling at his hair. "We don't need your help! Don't get my wrong, I'm glad you calmed Auntie Dia down but-" He shook his head, wiping at the tears he had thought had been exhausted.

"Believe me, we would have helped him in a heartbeat if we had known what was happen-"

"So you didn't even see -?"

"Listen, Mr. Armenta, all I want to do is help now that we are here. I understand if you don't want it, but Spencer needs calm. Diana will not stay calm if she realizes that Spencer is not Danny. We need her to think that he's Danny and to do that, I need to know who Danny is. I don't want to upset your mom. She was in tears when Danny was mentioned. I thought, maybe you could tell me -" He paused, seeing David shake his head, hugging himself against memories that were best left buried.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry -"

"Then don't!" David snarled. "You people make me sick, you don't have the right to - I'm not an unsub you can break for information. It's private, okay! I don't want to talk about it, or think about it. Just leave."

"I'm sorry." David was right, this Q&A was beginning to sound too much like an interrogation. "I don't mean to cause you distress, but Diana thinks I'm William and I'm guessing William would know who Danny is."

"Was," David corrected, his eyes on his laces.

"Was," Hotch conceded. Well at least now that explained Ethel's breakdown upon hearing Hotch insist he was alive. "Did Diana have another child or husband before -?" No, that didn't make sense, Ethel's grief had seemed too acute to be coming from someone with no immediate emotional connection.

David shook his head vigorously.

Hotch had a bad feeling in his stomach. He had been hoping that Danny was someone who had died before David was born, someone whose story he would know without any personal memories, but judging by David's distress, he'd been wrong.

"No." His voice was steady again. "No, it was only ever William and Spencer."

The light bulb clicked on in Hotch's sluggish brain. He could have kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. "He was your father, wasn't he?"

David didn't need to answer. He had taken his seat again, the palm of his hand pressing into his temple as if to ward of a headache, no doubt caused by the excess tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, my dad and her brother." David stood to leave, biting his lower lip, his eyes darting between the double doors and his sleeping aunt.

"Go, your mother needs you. I can take Diana to a hotel room with my team. Agent Morgan will stay here, if you need anything, he's your man."

David nodded his assent, disappearing behind the double doors without a word.

With David out of hearing range, Morgan turned to Hotch. "You spoke to Dr. Wilson." It wasn't a question.

"You know the rules."

"I do."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Morgan sat down, his eyes on the door through which David had just retreated. Being left alone with Reid's family was punishment for his failure that afternoon, he was sure of it. Well if that was the case, then it was well earned. The detective may have been the one to spill the story to Reid, but he should have seen that Reid was detoxing, should have been able to hide the knife. Could have, should have, would have...It was no use, what was done was done. Right now his family needed...something. He wasn't sure what yet, but whatever they needed, they would get. He would make sure of it.


	21. Chapter 21

David Armenta counted to 10 slowly as he made his way down the corridor of hospital beds and machines. He had to get away from those agents. They were going to make his blood boil - as if him telling all of the family secrets was going to stop the monster psych episode that was coming. They were crazy - the lot of them.

He pulled the curtain aside to see his mom sitting at Spencer's bedside, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She didn't even stir, didn't even seem to notice his heavy footfalls or his heavy breathing. He took a seat next to her, slowly put his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, Mom."

"Davey?" her voice croaked, her hands came down to her son's half-attempt at a smile. "You came? I thought you -"

"Of course, I came." He pulled his mom into an embrace, his eyes fixed on the curtain, half expecting one of the agents to come back and offer help. Well if they dared, he'd have some words. He held his mother until the shaking stopped and her energy was spent. He didn't say anything. They both hated comforting lies, and they both knew it.

She finally pulled back, rubbing her raw puffy eyes. "I didn't think that he -"

"I know. Neither did I." His mom didn't even need to finish that sentence. They both knew how far out of control Diana's paranoia could get. Except this time it hadn't been paranoia at all. "Why don't you go get some sleep? Auntie Dia is with the team. I'll stay with Spencer."

"I don't know, I can't -" She turned back to her nephew, biting her lip in consideration.

"I'll stay with him," he repeated. "You can't help him right now. Go." He couldn't imagine what it must have been like to haul a hysterical Auntie Dia all the way across the country, but he could see the toll it had taken.

"You'll call me if -"

"Of course."

With a quick good-bye kiss to each of her boys, she left the ward.

Her boys. David let his mind linger on that thought as he studied his cousin's frozen face. Well that's what they were: both of them. "Hey, little brother." Ever since they had each lost their fathers, and Spencer had lost his mom to her psychosis...she had taken care of them both.

He'd told his mom that she couldn't help him, but really what could any of them do? _Talk to him._ That's what the doctor had said. If by any chance Spencer had any awareness at all...

"I know you're scared, Spencer, just listen to my voice, okay? Just follow my voice." He kept a tight grip on Spencer's hand, just as he had that horrible night so long ago. "Don't let go. Don't you dare let go."

* * *

William Reid was a man who prided himself on his immaculate appearance and his flawless poker face. It was necessary when trying to convince a skeptical jury that a man had not in fact been the butcher in their photographs. It was a skill he had honed and perfected over many years and yet it was one that had failed him today. He was fiddling with his hands, tapping his leg, exhibiting every possible sign of nervousness. Even an untrained eye could see his nerves. He didn't even want to think about what trained profiler eyes would see, especially since those eyes hadn't seen him since he was under five foot tall.

He sighed, glad that he was the only one in the elevator. It gave him precious seconds to sort out his mind. Something about this...situation simply did not fit. Jeffrey Collins wasn't here. He had known that ever since he had called his client en route to the airport. Perhaps the FBI simply had the wrong Collins, but it couldn't be...they wouldn't be so careless. They wouldn't call unless...

 _"Agent Morgan will see you on the fourth floor."_

The elevator opened all too soon for his liking. He stepped out onto the fourth floor, his dread growing by the second. Hotchner's instruction had been to meet him at the office, so then why? Why had the nurse known to direct him to the FBI as soon as he got here? He had been hoping to be told that no one was here for him: no FBI, no Collins. It was after all - he glanced at his wrist watch - 6 am. Why was he even being allowed here? Surely even hospitals closed their doors to the general public at some...

"Look, I appreciate your concern, but we're fine!" The ward was uncharacteristically busy for such an early hour, but that voice - that very familiar voice - rose above all the others. _It couldn't be!_ He hurried around the corner, hoping to see strangers, hoping to be wrong.

There- looking remarkably unchanged considering the last 15 years - was Ethel Armenta, arguing with a tall black man.

"Agent Morgan, there really isn't anything -"

 _Agent Morgan? Why was Ethel talking to the FBI?_

"I understand that, ma'am, but I'm not going anywhere. If anything happens, I -"

"If anything happens?" She had no tact in hiding her incredulity. She wasn't even trying. "What else could _possibly_ happen?"

His mind tried desperately to come up with a reason for the scenario playing out before him. Of course Agent Morgan and Ethel could both be at the same hospital. There was no reason to think...except they were _talking_ to each other. It wasn't coincidence...which meant that they were both here for the same person, most likely a case victim. His mind immediately jumped to David, and just as quickly dismissed it. How bad of an uncle did it make him to hope that it was his nephew in the hospital? But that didn't make sense. He knew Morgan's name from his articles, just like Hotchner's...they both worked with Spencer and if David was the victim then _Spencer_ would be the agent staying at the hospital. He was sure of it. His eyes scanned the ward, searching for...for who? His son could be any of the other visitors and he would never know. He wanted to tell himself that a father would recognize his own son, but would he? Would he really?

"Spencer?" He didn't care if he sounded hysterical. He just had to, he had to see for himself that his boy was safe...then he could rail on the FBI for being incompetent jerks for pulling his strings like this. But first...

"William? William Reid?" Somewhere in the fog of panic, he hadn't noticed the crowd gathering around him, nor the strong arms guiding him to the chairs.

"Yes," he answered, scanning the concerned faces...there were nurses and lab coats, a very disbelieving Ethel, but no...no one who could possibly be... "Spencer? My son..."

"Well at least you finally remembered you have one!"

How could she possibly think he'd forgotten about his only son? Oh, right 15 years of absence...of course. "Where is he?"

"Sir, if you just calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down! The FBI calls me across the country to see a client who isn't injured, my sister-in-law is here. My son's here, isn't he? He's hurt." Spencer had been with the Bureau for years, this couldn't be the first time he'd be injured, but it was the first time he had gotten a call...a notification. "It's bad, isn't it?" This was a notification - a family notification. He'd known for years this was a possibility, but somehow he'd never thought...

"Mr. Reid, breathe..."

* * *

 _"Hello! Somebody help us!" Little Spencer Reid hollered into the howling wind. This wasn't funny anymore. Gone were the hours of snowmen and hot cocoa. Ever since he'd read about snow from the 105 degree heat of a Vegas summer, he'd been curious...now he never wanted to see snow again! He hated it._

 _He felt David's hand tighten his grip, promising not to let go. What did it matter? They were just two lost kids. What they really needed was..._

 _"Spencer, look who's here!" David actually sounded...excited?_

 _Uncle Danny! Finally..._

 _"Spencer!"_

 _No, not Uncle Danny..._ _"DADDY!"_

 _"I'm so sorry!" Spencer didn't know why Daddy was sorry, he didn't even care. All he knew was that he was safe. Safe in his father's arms at last._


	22. Chapter 22

"Where is my Chocolate Thunder when you need him?" Garcia grunted under the surprisingly heavy weight.

"At the hospital. Just a little bit further," Elle yawned peering around Garcia to see the outline of the SUV a few rows away. She must have been unemployed longer than she realized if she was this tired at 7 am.

"Still? Did he stay there all night?"

"Quietly, unless you want to explain to sleeping beauty that last night was not a night -"

"Elle, did you sleep at ALL?"

"After watching those videos, not a chance."

"You watched those videos with our –" Garcia whispered, glancing down at the woman whose head lay precariously on her arms -"VIP in the same room? Are you crazy?"

"There's this new technology now: they're called headphones. You should try them some time."

Garcia gaped at Elle in amazement, a former team member she may be, but Garcia didn't remember her being that – daring. "Very funny, Elle." If Diana had woken up….? Come to think of it, Garcia took a closer look at their VIP/hostage, she wasn't groaning in the throes of a nightmare or stirring at all in fact she almost looked…."Did you drug her?"

"Now why would I do something like that?"

"Stop it with the profiler games, Elle? Seriously?"

"Seriously, do you really want to know?"

 _Oh dear God, Penelope, what have you gotten yourself into? You're carrying a drugged woman through a hotel parking lot and in the company of_ – No, no, Elle is NOT a murderer. _You keep telling yourself that_ "I'm surprised no one's tried to stop us!" she muttered. No wonder unsubs got away so often if no one reported this kind of behavior. She was almost hoping to get caught, at least that might restore her now failing faith in humanity.

"What are they going to do? Take us to the police for questioning?" Well someone wasn't concerned in the slightest. "You've got your credentials, right?"

"Of course, I've got my-"

"Then we're fine." She easily – almost expertly, Garcia thought uneasily – managed to unlock the SUV door while still holding onto their hostage/VIP's legs. Together they managed to maneuver her into the back seat and shut the door.

"I think I'll drive." Garcia made a grab for the keys but Elle was having none of it. "Elle, seriously. You're not an agent, Hotch will have a fit if he sees you driving a Bureau SUV."

"Hotch is already on his way to the _field office,_ whereas we are going to the hospital. What he doesn't know –"

"You're hung over and sleep-deprived. Hand them over!"

"Fine," Elle conceded.

Garcia climbed into the driver seat and belted up. "So tell me, what DID you do to her?"

"Nothing," Elle replied a little too innocently.

"Elle, I'm not kidding, you _know_ she's on psych meds –"

"I didn't drug her-"

"Elle-"

"Babysitting her was the only way Hotch would let me stay in Reid's room on the Bureau's dime…maybe next time he'll think twice before sticking me with a crazy bi-"

"Elle! That's REID'S MOTHER! Unless you want me to tell him -"

"Okay, okay!" Elle didn't doubt that Garcia would keep her threat. Not to mention that Reid was a mamma's boy. Heaven help the poor bastard – or bitch, in her case – who came between Reid and his mamma.

"Well what else was he going to do? Take her to his room?"

"She wouldn't mind - what?" she demanded at Penelope's raised eyebrows. "She thought he was her ex-husband!"

"The allegations would be a PR nightmare, false or not," Elle reluctantly agreed. That was more or less what Hotch had said when he dropped her off.

"So what _did_ you do?" Garcia didn't miss the mischievous gleam in those drowsy eyes. "Elle?"

"It's not my fault water and vodka look so much alike!"

* * *

"Hi, Spencer. It's Daddy." William Reid stroked the bangs out of his son's face, tightening his grip on the ice-cold skin, his tongue caught in his throat. He had imagined over the years what his son would say to him if they ever met again: the possible scenes varied widely from cheerful reunions, hugs and forgiveness to far more realistic and depressing scenarios but right now? Right now, there were only two things that Spencer needed to hear. "I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you -"

A soft noise of disbelief from the other side of the room stopped him in his tracks.

William lowered his head in his hands.

"You're sorry?" a hard voice sneered from behind him.

Damn, he wished David would leave.

"Yes." William's reply was curt and to the point, not sparing a glance for his nephew, too transfixed by the sight of son. Who knew that hypothermia could be therapeutic?

"For what?" his nephew sneered. " _Nobody made you leave_. Okay? You just show up out of the blue...and?" He huffed, setting his teeth on edge.

"I know." There was no point in arguing the obvious.

David growled. If they hadn't been in a hospital room...if there weren't delicate machines everywhere. He had imagined time and again what it would be like to see Uncle William again. Perhaps it had been a good idea that he had stayed away. Some of the ideas he and Spencer came up with could have given an unsub a run for his money. Some of those ideas sounded really appealing right about now...and how? How could Uncle William just be so...calm? It was almost like..."Don't you care?"

"Of course I do."

David's skeptical glare was locked on his uncle. " _Really?_ You come to see him after all of these years after _this_? If you really cared, you would have called him up years ago."

William massaged his temple with a sigh. He did not need a headache right now. "David, what's this about?"

David paused, biting his lip. The confusion was gone from his eyes, replaced by anger. Much as he wanted to dig his claws into his uncle, now was not the time. He sighed, leaning back into his chair, his eyes on father and son. That should be enough for now, but it wasn't. As much as this was about Spencer and not him, certain depressing thoughts would not leave him alone. Getting Uncle William out of the room would solve that problem in his head, but he didn't have a right to kick William out. If hearing his father's voice brought Spencer any sort of comfort then who was he to take that away at a time like this?

An uncomfortable silence fell across the bedside, an unspoken truce as it were. William Reid took his eyes off of his son for the first time, turning his attention to his nephew. David was scowling at him, a look of controlled rage he knew all too well. It was the look of a man who was itching to say something that he shouldn't. It was usually seen right before a client broke under cross examination. "Look, David, I don't know why you're angry at me, and at the moment I don't care. We can talk about it when Spencer is recovered but right now, we need to just forg-"

"Forget about it?" David's fierce whisper took him aback. If they had been anywhere else, there would have been yelling and curses. "You really think I can forget - ?" He shook his head. "No."

"Then tell me what this is about."

"As if you don't already know!"

William frowned, not bothering to hide his confusion. In fact, wearing his heart on his sleeve might just be to his advantage at the moment. "What could I possibly have done to make you hate me? I haven't seen you since you were -"

"7." David supplied before William could finish that thought. "I was 7. You remember that Christmas, don't you?"

Oh! _Oh! Right. Shoot_ Christmas of 85. Oh yes he remembered. "Of course." He kept his silence, obviously David needed to get something off of his chest, better now when Spencer was sleeping than stressing him out. As bad as those memories were- "David, I had nothing to do with your father's death. You know that, so tell me what's wrong?"

"It doesn't matter," he whispered, snapping his mouth shut. It was ancient history, Uncle William was right, it wasn't his fault. He'd been thoughtless, perhaps but he hadn't meant for...He ran a hand through his hair, his eye on his cousin. It was a wonder that this whole debate - the sound of his dad's voice - hadn't woken him up.

"If it's bothering you, it does." William was just glad he wasn't denying that something was wrong.

"The doctor said, 'happy thoughts'. Those are not happy."

Too true, there wasn't much that could be more depressing. "Do you have a music player on you?"

"Yeah, I've got an iPod. Why?"

"I got an idea. Give it here."

David pulled his silver iPod mini out of his pocket and handed it to his uncle who scrolled through the songs, searching...

"You got anything on here that's not metal?"

"Well there's the _Lord of the Rings_ soundtracks."

"Yeah, that'll work." He click on the album and placed the earbuds in Spencer's ears. "There. It's just us, he can't hear. Now spill."

David scowled, reaching down to turn up the volume of the music. There, that was better. "Why? It's over it's done, nothing is going to change that."

William sighed, wishing that David had left when he had entered, but he hadn't the heart to kick him out. After all, David had been more of a cousin than he'd been a father. "Do you think Spencer remembers that night? I mean I know he has an amazing memory...but he was only four."

David's eyes hardened, trying to cling to his temper at the thought that they any of them could possibly forget."I know he does."

* * *

I know, I know this is creeping right along but at least now we've got William and David talking and Diana is en route. And since I got tired of re-writing depressing episode endings, I'm re-writing the Haley vs Foyet episode 100 entitled 'Broken Promises" if you want something a little more cheery to read.

Now let's see if I can manage to write chapter 23 without any rewrites.

Note: I'm sure I mentioned it in previous chapters, I just can't find the quote, but I have Diana and Daniel as brother and sister which makes Ethel and Diana as sister _s-in-law_ I got a few PMs where readers thought they were sisters.


End file.
